


Snow Cold

by Tsura



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Dark Past(s), Denial, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Friendship, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mentions of Death, Scuffles, Slight Violence, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Trauma, a lot of hospital stuff, overcoming said trauma, sicknesses, struggles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9611249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsura/pseuds/Tsura
Summary: Who could have known that one day Sven, metal singer, would get caught up in something he couldn't even fathom: a dude.





	1. It's kinda cold (even inside)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Trailblazer](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Trailblazer).



> [[Please have present the fact that I don't have a beta reader, so if you come across mistakes I'd love if you could drop a comment about that.]]

Of course it was cold.

It was always cold in Davos.

The usual layer of goddamn snow covered everything with its obnoxious, boring whiteness.

His heater had stopped working; obviously, so he was reduced to wearing three sweaters inside, close by his oven, sitting on the floor while it cooked some homemade lasagna, fingers tapping idly on his unplugged electric guitar’s strings.

 He’d make a quick buck from anything he could find. He gave guitar lessons to a handful of people who were not too put off by his appearance, walked some old folks’ dogs, ran errands here and there, shovelled snow out of people’s alleys, and even went over to an old lady’s place to have tea with her to keep himself active more than anything else.

 That lady, Mrs Bischel, was a widow since 2001, and not at all what Sven thought what an 89-year-old widow would be like. She smiled a lot, laughed a lot, made jokes he could understand, asked questions about the meaning of his tattoos, and even went as far as to ask him to play one of the songs he’d wrote after he’d gone to her place every day for more than three months.

 So of course, he’d gone over to her place with his amp and played her his slowest song, and she’d listened with a distant look in her eyes. After that, he couldn’t help but think of her as the grandmother he’d never had (his mother’s mom had died from tuberculosis, and he’d never met his father nor his part of the family), and he started to feel bad for charging her to keep her company. After all, she was a lonely old lady and the meetings were as entertaining for him as they were for her.

 So he started declining the money, and despite that, she kept insisting for at least two weeks, saying that he needed money more than she did. They never had had any children with her husband, and she had admitted it was a shame, because she realised by having him around what she had missed on.

 He’d felt touched by her words, and swore that he’d be there for as long as she wanted him to be.

Unfortunately, she’d had a stroke or something along those lines, and ever since she was in a coma, bedridden at the hospital.

 

As a matter of fact, he was just waiting for his lunch to finish cooking before heading over to the hospital. He refused to believe that she wouldn’t wake up. He knew she was strong, she never showed any signs of weakness before. She was always well dressed, her hair neatly pulled up in a bun, her makeup as flawless as a young lady’s. 

He sighed, his forehead resting against the edge of his instrument. Luck was most definitely not on his side these days, or should he say these years. It seemed as though destiny had chosen to chew him off ever since he’d moved to Davos a year and a half ago.

 

He threw a glazed-over look at his phone, knowing he’d have to go through hundreds of e-mails concerning the appealing position of drummer in his band. Oh how he dreaded that moment.

 

He was yanked out of his reverie by the sudden ring of the device, indicating that his creation should be done cooking. He put his guitar aside and, grabbing some rags, opened the oven and got the dish out, managing not to get burnt. He then placed some tinfoil on it so that it would still be somewhat warm when he came back from the hospital.

 He reluctantly grabbed his phone, stopping the alarm, and shoved some money in his pocket just in case before exiting his place, locking the door behind. The residence’s corridor was pretty dark: the only light provided during the day was the sunlight that filtered through the main door’s glass panel, protected by rusty iron bars. He was lucky to own the second loft, though, because those who lived at the end of the corridor had to struggle in _real_  darkness.

After pushing the heavy main door and squinting his eyes at the sudden brightness, mostly due to the coat of white that stifled every other colour in the environment, he got on his merry way, tiny clouds forming in front of his mouth whenever he breathed out. Even with his hands deep in his pockets he was able to feel the cold air’s bite on the tip of his fingers. Winter was definitely going to suck if he didn’t sort out his radiator problem soon. 

The streets were empty; after all, it was Monday evening, everyone was either at school or at work. He usually liked when there were few people around; it made it so that whenever he happened upon another passer-by they either greeted him or answer when he did so himself, in a more relaxed manner. Today however, the silence was more grating than if a toddler had been screaming in his ear for hours.

Lost in thought, he didn’t realise when the fifteen-minutes walk to the hospital flew by, the sight of the large U-shaped hospital building suddenly bringing him back to reality. The space between the right and left wings was used as a parking lot, which grimly enough never was empty. He shook his head lightly, the morose thought unwelcome. He trudged through the snow accumulated on the path to the main doors, on the central building. There were a few nurses, both male and female, idly chatting while leaning against the adjacent wall, having a smoke. It looked like it was a peaceful enough day, for them to be able to relax. He smiled to them when he passed by, earning some absent glazed-over looks from the exhausted-looking workers, and one of them even offered a faint smile.

 He pushed the wide doors open, instantly assaulted by the smell of disinfectant. He sighed, glancing about until he locked eyes with the nurse at the check-in. She smiled to him, already used to seeing him around. She was young, recently graduated from university, and Sven really admired her dedication. She never seemed to be out of sorts, and from her emanated a confidence that didn’t fail at putting others instantly at ease. He had yet to ask her what her name was — he was a little awkward around women, against all odds. Especially when they were that pretty.

Her ashen blond hair was always pulled back in a neat bun, the colour complementing nicely her sky blue eyes and her porcelain skin, only maculated by a few beauty spots here and there. She was tall, about a meter seventy, her eyes at the height of his nose.

He waved at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and his heart jumped a little when she waved back. Afraid for her to see him blushing, he quickly strode over to the stairs. The ambiance of the hospital was very comforting to him, contrary to most people’s opinions. He liked the safety and serenity of the facility, and knowing that inside there were hard-working people that went through the awful experience of seeing things that not all can handle seeing, just so that they could help others and prevent as much pain as they could, seriously taking a blow on their own health in the process. He knew — rather shamefully — he’d never be capable of such abnegation.

After a series of immaculate white walls, he finally reached his destination.

His throat knotted at the sight of the room’s door, and his steps slowed ever so slightly. He started to wring his hands unconsciously while wearily stepping in the pure white room.

Surely enough, she was still there, snow-white hair splayed out around her wrinkled but peaceful features, witnesses of their faded beauty. There was the beeping of machines and the humming of the air conditioner set to give off warmth in the frigid weather, and close to the monitors was a young doctor, taking notes on a small notebook.

 "Ah,” said the latter, turning to face him. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. I’m Dr. Haynes, I’ve been checking on her for the past few days. Are you related?”

He slowly shook his head in denial, taken aback. He didn’t expect them to assign a doctor to her.

 “I’m an acquaintance.” He offered meekly. At that he caught the young doctor’s eyes drifting to his tattooed arms and pierced ears with a dubious expression, but he made no comment.

 “If you’d like to take a seat, uh…” he trailed off, expecting a name.

 “Sven.” He said, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

 “Right, Sven, I have to tell you a few things.” The doctor said with a soft tone.

 He nodded and obliged, taking a seat on one of the room’s two dark blue sober armchairs.

The doctor cleared his throat.

 “I have had the leisure to notice a few things evolving with her condition. It seems that her heart had taken a tendency to slow down at irregular intervals, which is… well, a common symptom previous to complete heart failure. I am really sorry. It is now only a matter of time before she, hum, leaves us,” he said, hands fiddling nervously with his notebook and then letting them drop at his side when he was done with his explanation. “All that’s left now is for you — the only person known to visit her on a regular basis — to sign a paper allowing us to unplug the machines. I-It doesn’t have to be now, or today. You can take your time. Fortunately the hospital is not so busy so that we’d have to rush you before you can come to terms with what’s happening...”

 He just stared at the doctor as though he’d grown a second head. There was no way she was dying. No, this was just supposed to be an accident like all old people have, she’d wake up and laugh it off, saying she was just giving him a scare and then go back home, inviting him to some tea and biscuits while she’d tell him about how her mother was an opera singer and how she’d fallen in love with the janitor, her father. He’d heard that story a dozen times. And he wasn’t done hearing it. She couldn’t be dying.

He raked a shaky hand through his hair, biting on the inside of his lower lip.

The doctor noticed he wasn’t going to be talking any soon, and started writing something on his notepad, before tearing the sheet off and presenting it to him.

 “Here, I put my contact info on there, if there is anything, do not hesitate to call me. I know it can be tough to deal with things like this, especially alone. I have to go now… Take care of yourself!” he said somewhat shyly before awkwardly rushing out.

 He stared at the paper blankly, before shoving it in his pocket.

He needed air. He was suffocating.

 He shot up from the chair and walked towards the staircase, cheeks burning and heart drumming senselessly.

He needed to get a grip. Get a deep breath of fresh air. It would be okay.

He climbed the stairs one by one, knuckles whitening at how clenched his fists were. But he was oblivious to that, couldn’t even be bothered to feel the way his nails dug into his skin.

 

Finally he reached the roof, and walked straight ahead to the railing, hands slamming down onto the metal grid.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm his racing heart, to no avail. He would never admit it, but he was scared. Mrs Bichsel didn’t deserve to go yet. She was just starting to cheer up, starting to be less lonely, to have someone to share her stories with.

He closed his eyes, and he felt _tears_ trickle down his cheeks. It’d been long since he’d last shed a tear, probably back when he was a kid and got a particularly bad skinned knee after a mean fall on his bike.

But crying now, as a grown adult, a _metal singer_?

He’d be damned if anyone saw—

 

“Hey, are you alright?”

 

He jolted and hastily wiped at his face with his forearm before turning around sharply.

There was a young man around his age standing nearby, a redhead shorter than he was — even shorter than the blonde nurse — but a lot more built, concern written all over his freckled features. His hair was cut short on the sides of his head and only was longer on top, all brushed forward, and though he was not used to see that kind of haircut around it did suit the stranger.

The most striking feature about him however, was how he only wore a tank top outdoors.

 

“I’m fine,” he answered, his voice a little coarse. “I’ve just been told someone I know is dying.”

Why he said that? No clue, but it felt good to unload.

 

The stranger’s eyes widened for the fraction of a second, before he offered a warm smile.

“Nah, it’s fine. Don’t trust those guys, they don’t know anything. Don’t sign anything yet.”

 

There was a shocked silence.

He hadn’t expected the stranger to say something like that. Usually people displayed a sorry expression and offered their heartfelt condolences, they didn’t outright say doctors were _ignorants_.

He felt something bubble in his gut — he’d almost laughed. After being told someone he was close to was going to die.

 

He eyed the stranger with a little more intensity this time around, deciding he wasn’t just anybody he could pinpoint with a mere glance-over.

He harboured a goofy smile, healthy rows of white teeth showing, and slight dimples digging at his cheeks.

His hazel eyes were looking straight at his, not showing the least sign of discomfort. And how was he not cold? ...

 

“I don’t think I’d be able to sign anything right now anyway. It’s not a decision anyone would be able to make in the spur of the moment I think. Hey, you’re going to catch a cold out here, are you okay?” he asked, slightly curious.

 

“No, I’m fine. I just ran a lot and stuff. Is it a family member you’re waiting for?” he asked gently, leaning his back against the railing.

 

“Not really, no,” he answered, reaching into his coat’s pocket to fish out a pack of cigarettes. He caught out of the corner of his eye the stranger’s disapproving look, but it was quickly dissimulated as he raised his head back up, a smoke hanging loosely between his lips. He rarely ever smoked, but sometimes he felt it was okay to take the easy way out. He sighed. “She’s just someone I’ve been getting to know as part of a job I picked up a few months back. She has no relatives alive.”

 “Oh, that’s really sad. But really kind of you to care beyond money.” He chuckled faintly. “I’m Gael, by the way.” He added, reaching a hand out to him.

 “Sven,” he answered simply, shaking the offered hand before lighting up his cigarette, and walking to stand on Gael’s other side so that the wind would blow the smoke away from him as opposed to right in his face. The latter observed him with an amused smile.

 Sven didn’t mind the slight quirkiness that emanated from the young man. If anything, it was offering an easy distraction from the mess he felt he’d stepped in when he passed the hospital doors a mere few moments ago.

 “So Gael, what are _you_ here for? You don’t look sick to me — though I doubt it’s going to last very long, it’s freezing out here.” He said casually, his ebbing curiosity expertly muffled.

 Gael seemed to give it a moment of thought, his elbows rested on the railing and his hands intertwined close to his chest.

 “I’m here to… check up on my mom, she has to visit regularly because of some heart problems. And it’s not that cold, really,” he said, as though he’d manage to convince Sven that _he_ was the one in the wrong getup… to no avail.

 “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope they’ll get that sorted out soon enough.” Gael nodded, but didn’t comment. Sven took a drag from his cancer stick. “So you live around here then? Haven’t come across many young folk since I moved in a year ago.”

 “Well, my… mom does, I’m just here because she’s not well, but I myself actually live in France.” The redhead explained; eyes glued to the looming dark grey clouds above. “I just got here a few weeks ago, and I’m under the severe impression that there’s, uh, well, not much to do around here.”

 “Damn right there isn’t.” He let out a short laugh. “Well, there is a lot of political business going on here, but it’s not really my thing.”

 “I hear there’s a hockey team from here, and that they’re pretty good. You like sports?” the shorter man asked, his intense gaze focused back on Sven.

 “I don’t know much about ‘em, it’s never been my strong suit. It seems like it’d be yours though wouldn’t it? You’re fit. Are _you_ part of a hockey team?” he asked genuinely, uncaring whether or not he sounded like an ignorant.

 And he must have, because Gael burst into hearty laughter.

“No, no, not at all! You don’t get like me from waving a stick around.” That comment made Sven snort. “I’m actually a swimmer,” the redhead continued, on a more serious tone. “A competitive swimmer.”

 That made more sense. But before he could inquire further, Gael straightened up and unwound his hands. “Oh, whoops, well Sven it’s been a pleasure meeting you and I’d be glad to see you ‘round again, but for now I gotta bolt. Bye!”

 Before he could say anything Gael was striding towards the roof’s doors, and he barely managed to catch a glimpse of bleached blond hair before the doors fell shut behind his unusual new acquaintance.

He stared in silence for a moment, baffled, his cigarette forgotten between his fingers.

That had been… weird, to say the least.


	2. Out to catch (death)

When he returned home later that day, he found himself idly sitting by his table, jabbing at his food with a fork. Appetite had abandoned him — if not because of the grim news, simply because something was telling him, nagging him at the back of his head, that this was just the beginning.

The piece of paper with the doctor’s number was in front of him, innocently sitting on the wooden surface, and though his eyes seemed intently focused on it, his mind was elsewhere. That weird redhead had cheered him up a bit, with his antics. He’d forgotten what his name was already; he’d always been terrible at remembering those. He wondered if he’d be okay, if his mother would recover soon, or if he’d end up bumping into him again in the hospital.

He hoped not, for the guy’s sake.

 

Sighing, he focused back on his plate and forced himself to eat some more before putting the dish into the fridge. He was free for the rest of the day, so in order to take his mind off the bad news, he picked up his guitar and started practising.

 

When he stopped, the sun had long since set and his fingertips were numb from playing for hours. There was a noticeable chill in the air. Before the cold could get to him any further he got on his feet and walked to the shower, undressing quickly before stepping in and turning the water on. He had to stand on the side until it got warm — hissing at the bouncing cold droplets that inevitably hit him — and once it was, he didn’t bother sparing his hair from getting wet.

 He spaced out during his whole shower, staring blankly at the tiles on the wall, mind empty. Reality caught up with him soon enough when he had to step out of the shower into the merciless cold, his towel doing absolutely nothing for him. He cursed mentally all the heaters in the world, fumbling around for his nightclothes and didn’t stop moving until he was fully dressed, brushing his teeth at his apartment’s single sink.

 His blank-faced expression stared back at him in the mirror, and it was crazy to see how, in the mere hours that had gone by since his encounter with Dr Haynes, his mouth corners had naturally shifted downwards into a permanent, involuntary frown, his skin tone now almost ashen.

 He wouldn’t be able to run from the inevitable for that long, he had to actually make a decision, knowing pertinently it was but a matter of time until he’d be forced to sign the paper that would only confirm the demise of a friend. He shifted slightly, catching sight of the downturned portrait on his nightstand from the corner of his eye. He subconsciously winced, and deciding that he’d had enough for the day, he walked to his bed and all but flopped down on it with a tired huff.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, mind that, it’s fragile, can’t you read?” the woman yelled, pointing at the offender with an accusing finger, her downward frown reminiscent of biblical representations of Satan. Sven did his best to just pass by, looking inconspicuous, clutching the box he was carrying with care and adoration, not sparing a glance towards the poor soul who’d just been torn apart by intimidating dagger-like glares. 

He had forgotten why the woman was to him but an acquaintance and not a friend.  
She was the epitome of scary, and though granted she could be pertinent and amazingly comforting, make one mistake, and you burn at the stake.

He placed the box down in the house’s first room and headed back out to fetch another one, pausing only to lean against the wall and wipe at his brow. The boxes seemed to go from heavy to heavier, but he wasn’t about to leave things half done to have to come back the day after. Mustering all the strength he had in store, he went back out and onto his task.

 

By the end of the day he was drenched in sweat, but the work had been well done and most of the unpacking had been dealt with. The woman, Elizabeth, was quite pleased, and rewarded him with a reasonable amount of money, which he insisted was not necessary for the sake of being polite, and she ended up slipping it in his pocket before shoving a cup of tea in his hands. After drinking the comfortably warm beverage he thanked her and took his leave, walking back home with the setting sun.

 He whistled while thinking about the money in his pocket. He was grateful for it, but it wasn’t like he absolutely needed it. When his band had become a success, he’d started storing money on his bank account, just in case things got rough in the future, and as he’d always lived with minimal comfort, he had been productively making a nice backup for himself. There was enough money on there to allow him to survive comfortably a few years without having to break his back, but he’d rather not touch it while he had the occasion to be working. It helped to stay in motion; he never was one to stay idle for long.  
  
Once he got home with those thoughts in mind, he jumped straight in the shower and washed the stickiness of sweat right off.

 By the time he was done and dressed, he noticed his phone going crazy on his table.

He was being all but spammed by one of his old friends. Scrolling through the mass of texts he learnt that apparently, there was an event she wanted to go to and he was the only one she could count on, somehow. She wanted to stay over at his place for a few days, given that the event took place closer to him. He sat in the corner against his pillows with a sigh, thinking about it. He didn’t have anything too important to do as of late, besides the hospital matter, and even with that he could use a hand. Maybe she’d be able to knock some sense into him.

 

He would tell her to come and stay. After all, it'd been years since he'd last seen her. Having made up his mind, he quickly typed the message, and barely a second after hitting “send”, he got flooded again with excited emoticons.

 

He snorted, amused, before silencing his phone and setting it back on the table. He was comfortable with his decision now that he gave it some more thought, he could really use the company of a good friend — and he’d be damned if _she_ wasn’t a freaking amazing one.

 

* * *

 

 

He sighed, absent-mindedly turning the cup between his fingers.

He was more than a little disgruntled, if not completely _angry_ with himself. He’d stepped up to the hospital’s doors and had chickened out at the last second, making a 180° turn to sit lamely on a bench a little farther off, on the snow-covered grass.

 

It’d been a little more than a week since he’d last come to visit, having busied himself more or less subconsciously and managing to avoid thinking about anything for far too long than even he could be comfortable with. The snow hadn’t let up in the slightest, and they were only somewhere mid-August.

 He exhaled in his scarf and brought his store-bought coffee up to his face, hoping it would slap him back to earth. All it really did was to give off a nice smell.

 He was just about asking himself if he should just admit defeat and go back home, but before the thought could really fully form he was interrupted by someone calling his name.

 He jolted in surprise, turning around too fast, spilling scorching coffee on his hand. The loud curse that escaped his lips only made the newcomer chuckle.

 It was that ginger guy from the rooftop, he confirmed with a side-glance while dabbing the liquid off his hand with a napkin.

 “Hi,” he grumbled moodily despite himself.

 The redhead came to sit in front of him without asking for permission.

 “Hey, what’s up? Did you come to see your friend?” he asked, propping his head on his hand, bare elbow digging into the thick layer of snow on the tabletop.

 “I, uh… Yeah, I came to do that.” He said, avoiding the young man’s prying stare. The other one did not seem to mind, starting to draw circles in the snow with his other hand.

 “I guess you haven’t yet, huh. Are you okay? You look a little pale.” He said, so casually that one who heard the conversation would doubtlessly think they were good friends.

 “… I’m fine, just haven’t been sleeping well.” He paused. “How’s your mom?” He asked. He figured, while they were at it, he could ask questions just as well.

 “Oh, not too good. I’m going to be hanging around here for a while, or so it seems. C’mon.” He said, as he started getting up.

 For the first time since their conversation had started, Sven looked the other guy dead in the eye.

 “What?” he said, a little more than dumbfounded.

 “Weren’t you here to go see your friend? Come on, I’ll go with you. I think you’ve made her wait long enough by now,” he said, a teasing smile lighting up his features deviously. “Let’s go, unless your butt actually froze to the bench?”

 Sven’s mouth distorted into a confused rictus, something somewhere between a frown and a snarky smile. But he got up nonetheless, mind blank in front of the smaller male’s unpredictable appearance and force of character.

He definitely hadn’t expected to see him again, much less in a situation in which he’d let himself be stupidly lead to his own goal by someone exterior to the matter. In a way, this was exactly what he’d been hoping for. A push in the right direction, no matter where it came from, even if it had to be an eccentric guy who wore nothing more than a tank top in the cruel blizzard.

 Speaking of which, he was doing it again.

 “You’re really out to catch death aren’t you,” he mumbled gruffly as he followed the other towards the hospital’s main doors.

 “Huh? Oh — no, but it’s not that cold though.” The redhead replied easily. Much to Sven’s surprise it sounded genuine, like he really meant it.

But it was about minus two degrees Celsius at the moment.

 Nonetheless a quick glance towards the guy could confirm that he neither had goosebumps nor was gathered on himself, like people who are cold tend to be. He seemed as comfortable as if the gentle summer breeze had been blowing softly across the near-empty parking lot.

 “That’s definitely not true.” He declared quietly as they both stepped in the facility’s main hall.

 The redhead rolled his eyes. “You sound like my mom. Lead the way.”

 Sven complied wordlessly.

He wondered why the smaller man took the trouble to pay him any mind, and came to think that the most logical explanation was that he was bored out of his mind. He had been, too, when he first moved in, even though he sometimes met up with his band’s other members, so it was completely understandable, especially if the guy had to go through the emotional stress of waiting for his mother to recover from something potentially irreversible.

But when they got to Mrs Bischel’s room, he only thought that he was glad the redhead had made a move.

His friend needed him, and he’d only neglected her.

 He stepped closer to the bed, subconsciously biting his lower lip. He felt tense at the sight of how pale she’d grown.

 “You should talk to her,” he heard the other barely whisper. He’d stayed at the door’s threshold, probably out of respect or something along those lines.

 Sven gulped thickly and wracked his brain for something to say. He wasn’t used to feel shy or awkward, since getting up on stage and playing in front of thousands of people had never been an issue for him, but here, in the quiet room with her and a pair of scrutinizing hazel eyes, he was at a loss.

 “I, uh… I’m sorry I didn’t visit sooner.” he begun, shuffling from one foot to the other awkwardly. “I’m sure you’d be mad at me if you were awake…” he chuckled softly, thinking about the times he’d been unable to make it to her place when they’d arranged to spend time together. She’d scold him, but would always end up smiling again and teasing him, making him feel like a chided kid. He always felt ashamed of making her wait on him, and yet he’d done so yet again. Out of cowardice, no less.

 He inhaled deeply.

 “I’m sorry. I did it again. But you played a number on me, too… If you’re going to scold me about things you don’t like me doing, then I guess it’s only fair I scold you about things I don’t like _you_ doing. You gave me enough of a fright, so you’d better lighten up and snap out of it now, I think I’ve learnt my lesson. Besides, you left all your plants inside, and who’s going to water them, you didn’t give anyone a spare and they’re going to wither, after all the speeches you have me about being a responsible adult you’re just going to go against your own words and show such a bad example, you’re not _supposed_ to do this—“

He stopped and sucked a sharp breath in when he felt a soft pat on his shoulder.

A glance to the side revealed that the redhead had stepped up to his side, and with how caught up he’d been in his meaningless flow of words he’d completely passed on it.

 

“Breathe. Calm down,” the redhead whispered, a hint of worry in his eyes. “I didn’t think you were so _pent up_ on this. Seems like you _really_ haven’t visited since last time, huh?” He chuckled.

 

Sven remained silent, the ambient noise of the hospital taking over instead. He could hear his own heartbeat drumming in his ears. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, feeling his chest tighten.

 “She’s so pale,” he murmured. “She looks like a corpse. She always was so lively.”

 The smaller man didn’t remove his hand from his shoulder. He wanted to brush him off, but it was helping him hold steady instead of wavering lamely, so he just let it be.

 “Yeah. She _is_ pale, huh.” His ever-so cheerful tone chimed in. “Well I guess that’s enough of that,” he said, stepping enthusiastically to the door. “Even though what you said wasn’t nearly as nice as a sick person would expect…” he added, throwing a whimsical look over his shoulder, “I think it’s nice that you at least let her hear your voice after so long.”

 Sven felt his ears redden, and after standing there dumbfounded, he opted to stride after the other, who was already halfway up the stairs to the roof.

 “Hey!” he said, decided on sharing a piece of his mind to the meddling redhead, “Why do you—“

 He was interrupted by something freezing cold colliding with his cheek.

He raised a hand to it, feeling the frozen bite and humidity beneath his fingers.

 The redhead was standing nearby, hardly containing his laughter, another snowball in his hand already.

 “What are you do—“

_Smash._

This time, it hit him in the neck, sending residue inside of his shirt. He shivered wildly before deciding that he should at least retaliate, for his pride’s sake.

 Before he knew it, he was caught up in a snowball fight with the stranger, angrily chucking snow at him while he just dodged and laughed easily, as if things were not humiliating enough already.

 

 He raised his hands in defeat ten minutes later, the inside of his shirt soaked and frozen.

 The other came to stand by him as he sat on the border of the building, his back to the railing.

 “You look really pale,” the redhead said briskly, “and your lips are almost _blue,_ wow.”

 “No shit,” he grumbled back, teeth chattering, offering the stranger his best death stare, which proved less than absolutely useless.

 The redhead rested his crossed arms on the railing, the remnants of a smile still tugging at the corner of his lips.

 “You look like a corpse, yet you’re still alive.”

 There was a fleeting silence. Sven scoffed.

 “You have the strangest way of comforting people, you know that?”

 

Gael shrugged, pretending not to see the small smile the other struggled to repress.


	3. Deal with the red devil

He had walked home after spending a little while with Gael on the rooftop, who bid him farewell with a smile and a simple wave of his hand. He had asked if the smaller man had a cell phone, but he said he hadn’t bought a chip yet because he wasn’t sure for how long he’d be stuck in Switzerland.

He’d shrugged and smiled before waving goodbye from the staircase.

He wondered how long he’d stand there in the snow before realising that it _actually_ was cold out.

Sven shook his head. Speaking of phones, he’d gotten a message from one of his band mates during their little scuffle, telling him to meet up in a coffee shop in the centre. He apparently had important news for him.

He headed there, not bothering to hurry, knowing that today was his friend’s day off his job as a music teacher. He hadn’t heard from him since long enough, despite his meekly attempts at sending the man some text messages every now and again. Mike was the keyboard player. He played the piano and synth to perfection, and knew a lot about composing. Most of the time it was the two of them who came up with the songs the band created. The others mostly helped with the details.

 

He shoved his hands in his pockets when he felt the cold stinging on his skin and covered his face up to his nose with his scarf, causing the clouds of condensation when he exhaled to fly up his face.

It wasn’t too long before he spotted the name of the coffee shop Mike indicated in his text message.

He stepped in with a relieved sigh when he felt the warm air conditioning blowing by. Looking around while he unwound his scarf, he was quick to spot Mike waving at him from one of the tables at the back.

The place was tame, covered in pastel decorations and smooth covers of popular songs sounding low from the radio.

Sven sat in front of him with a loud huff.

“Took you long enough,” Mike said, swirling his spoon in his cream-covered coffee, his cheek resting on his hand. He waved his free hand at the waitress sitting behind the wooden counter. She smiled and disappeared behind a white door.

Sven shrugged.

“I was doing something. You can’t always assume I’m sitting around.” He replied while leaning back on the chair. It creaked loudly.

“Yeah, I know. You still job juggling? I heard it from Joann.” He said, leaning forward and putting both hands down on the table.

Joann was their backup singer and guitarist. He had no stage presence, despite being a really good guy; a little too shy and silent at times, especially at fan meet-ups.

“Yeah I am, even though it’s calmed down a great deal lately. I haven’t heard from Joann in a while, what is he doing? And what about the _other_?” he asked as the waitress appeared from behind the door again, carrying a small blue tray. She set a cup down in front of him along with a small plate and smiled before leaving them to their conversation; though instead Sven stared between the cup and the waitress in confusion.

“What’s that face for?” Mike chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “I asked her to prepare a black coffee as soon as you’d come and sit. That’s what you drink, right?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah it is. That’s thoughtful of you.” He said, picking up the cup and taking a sip as well. The beverage was hot. Too hot.

“Remember when I joined the band at the beginning and you’d always send me to fetch your coffee? You behaved like a total ass.” Mike continued, a wistful smirk stretching his lips.

Sven laughed.

“Don’t get all nostalgic on me. I had to know if you could take it.” He sighed and set the cup back down on the table. “So. You called me here for a reason right? I hope it wasn’t just to reminisce on your masochistic tendencies.”

Mike snorted, waving a hand in dismissal.

“No, no. I actually have something important to tell you. Since you asked me about everyone else already, I gotta tell you, not everyone is as well off as you and me. Most of them were overconfident and burned through their economies already, living “the life” as one could say.” He paused.

“Really? I thought they’d be a little more reserved, I told them we’d be stuck here a while, ever since… _that_.”

“I know, I know. But listen, I found us a gig. Well paid. The gear is there already, we don’t have to bring anything but our instruments if we’d rather. And… I told them we’d rather.” Mike said with a small snort, then joining his hands with a furrow in his brow, probably worried about his response to his proposition.

Sven swung on his chair lightly, rubbing at the rough nascent stubble on his chin.

“That’s crazy. We can’t play without a drummer. And the local audience for metal here isn’t good enough. It’d be a fiasco.”

Mike nodded slightly, as though he’d expected that exact answer.

“I know. That’s why we’re not playing metal. Also my brother is in town right now, and he’s a pretty good drummer, he usually plays for movie soundtracks.”

Sven squinted his eyes.

“… All right. Then I have nothing against it, if it’ll help.”

Mike smiled brightly. “I knew we could count on you. And besides, it’ll be nice to all play together again, after so long. And what was that about crazy? You’re the craziest out of us all.”

Sven couldn’t hold back a small smile.

“I guess that’s true.”

 

* * *

 

 

The concert date was set up for two weeks after Sven met Mike at the coffee shop. It had been around three days since then, and the long haired man hadn’t seen the light of day since he’d come home back then. He’d been putting together a repertoire of songs for the band to play, more rock oriented, suited for the lively ambiance of a bar. He made sure to include some popular classics as well, so that the audience could join in and sing along if they felt like it. They had done bar concerts a few times already in their early days, but it had been way too long since they’d got together and jammed. It might take time for them to shake off the rust, so they planned to gather and practice over the weekend, when they were all free from their obligations.

 Which meant that a visit to the hospital was due before then.

 He put his pen down on the small coffee table and leaned back against the pillow propped against the wall behind him, his makeshift work desk.

 Took a breath, two, three, and got up on his feet, uselessly dusting his pants.

 After pocketing his phone and keys, he put on a hoodie and coat before heading out, locking the doors behind him.

 The layer of snow had thickened, but since it was afternoon already, children grotesquely wrapped in seemingly infinite layers of colourful wool were running around and screaming while hurling snow at each other, or excitedly making snowmen on the sidewalk. He had to sashay between the loud groups of children, trying to avoid being hit by the projectiles flying in each and every direction. After he got out of the quiet street onto a more traffic-intensive one, he was able to resume walking normally. The sky was clear, which meant that they’d go at least a few days without any snow now, which was a relief. It would be a bother to have to shovel it out from the door to the road.

 The hospital soon came into view, and he passed the front door with a sigh. He didn’t notice the small smile the blond nurse directed at him, too caught up in his own thoughts, and went up the stairs almost automatically.

 In the room, everything looked the same, as blank and cold as ever. He dragged a chair close to the bed and sat, remaining silent for a while, taking a moment to regain his composure. He reached out and placed a shaky hand over her cold one and whispered a few words, letting her know the latest news.

 When he was done, he dragged the chair back to its place and opened the blinds, letting the sunlight filter in, giving at least some sort of colour to the room; and afterwards he headed straight for the rooftop, fingers itching for a cigarette.

 He was about to light one up, elbows propped on the railing, when it was suddenly snatched from his fingers and dropped down below.

 “That’s a nasty habit you have there,” a familiar voice chimed in.

 Sven jerked his head to the side, wide brown eyes meeting bright hazel ones. Surely enough, those haphazard freckles could only belong to one redheaded menace.

 Sven just stared dumbfounded, mind blank for a moment.

“Did… did you just creep up on me to snatch my cigarette?”

 Gael shrugged and came to mimic his positions, exposed elbows digging into the snow on the railing, a small smile hanging on his lips.

 Sven sighed.

“We all vent. I’d rather be smoking than engaging in self-destructive stuff and thoughts, _mom_.”

 Gael chuckled.

“You _do_ know those slowly kill you right?” he chided, voice as cheerful as ever.

Sven opened his mouth to retort, but closed it immediately, because he had to admit, Gael did have a very valid point there.

 Instead, he stared at the railing between the short distance that separated their elbows.

 After a while, he exhaled slowly and leaned back, arms falling to his sides.

 “Well… since we’re going to be lecturing each other, then you should probably consider stopping walking around _half-naked_ all the time.” He said, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it on Gael’s shoulders, who emitted a small gasp in surprise.

 “You can just dump it in the trash when you go home, but you should definitely start covering up. You’re gonna catch death.” He said, as he started to head towards the staircase.

“Then… it’s a deal!” Gael called out behind him, making him pause and turn around, shooting the smaller man a questioning glance, a sign for him to explain himself.

He adjusted the oversized jacket on his shoulders.

“I’ll start covering up, and you stop smoking.”

 Sven grimaced.

“That’s barely a fair trade!”

Gael stuck his tongue out.

“Fine.” Sven mumbled, before jogging down the stairs, a smile cutting through his grimace.


	4. That's one whiny bastard

“All set up here,” Joann called from where he stood, close to the amp, guitar set up and ready to kick off.

 “Same”, Mike said from behind his keyboard and his brother next to him nodded, spinning his drumsticks between his fingers.

 “Hang on a sec,” Liam grumbled, tuning his bass, not without a string of swears.

 “What’s the holdup? Need a hand?” Sven offered, methodically stroking his thumb against the strap of his guitar.

 Liam shot him a dark glare.

“Back off, don’t touch.” He hissed.

 “Friendly as ever,” Mike commented, drowning Liam’s rude response in a series of agile piano chords.

 When Liam finally gave the OK, Mike’s brother, Tom, gave the countdown and they started playing, drawing out the intro of the song to adjust to each other’s playing. The drums were quite good, Sven noted, not overwhelming, and the kit had a great depth of sound.

 First the bass and drums started, then Joann’s guitar. And in a few seconds, his singing was on cue.

 It was one of his original songs, so he was a little nervous — it being the first non-metal thing he shared with the others.

“It's only been a year, but it feels like a lifetime here…”

  _Breath._ After the first two verses, he gained some assurance, grasping tighter control over the flow of the song.

 “How's it been for you? Does it feel like a lifetime too?”

  _Pause_. With a quick glance around him, he could tell the others were getting into it. Well, except for Liam, who was apathetic as ever.

 “What would you do now in light of it all? I don't regret it in spite of it all, if I can't convince you then nobody can I guess…”

 The snare rung nicely, kicking up the tone, introducing the chorus.

 “I've got too much time on my hands. But you don't understand, or you won't understand…”

Along with the cymbals, it sounded much nicer than he’d expected. He couldn’t hold back a smile.

But all good things are always followed by disaster, or so they say, and a loud screech made them all grunt and swear in their startle, all gazes converging to the source, Liam.

“I’m sorry to break it to you but this song is weak as fuck.” He said evenly, re-plugging his bass with another loud screech.

Sven rubbed the bridge of his nose. Liam’s temper was always a hassle to deal with, and he always did his best to be tactful around him not to make things needlessly worse.

But before he could say a word, Tom chimed in.

“I think this song is awesome,” he said simply.

Liam shut him up with a glare.

“Alright, then what would you rather have us play?” Sven asked flatly.

“I dunno, just not this.” Liam shot back almost immediately.

“You’re just saying this because it’s Sven’s song.” Joann spoke up, to everyone’s surprise.

Liam stared at him blankly for a moment, Sven turning around to look at him, but Joann’s eyes were glued to his instrument, fingers nervously tapping against the wooden body.

“ _What_?” Liam hissed, taking a step forward.

“Alright, okay. I’m the one who spent three days making our list, so we’re going to follow it, whether you like it or not, Liam. Everyone, let’s take it from the top.” Sven cut the exchange short before it could escalate further.

 

The rest of the session went all right, despite the frigid ambiance, occasionally alleviated by Mike’s sprightly antics.

 

After the session wrapped up, Liam immediately left, while the others stuck around to have a beer.

 

They sat in Mike’s garage, finding random boxes or sitting on the amps, huddled together in a circle.

“That went pretty well,” Mike said, raising his beer. The others mimicked the action, clanking the glass bottles together.

“Cheers!” They said in unison and taking long, well-deserved refreshing gulps.

The conversation took off between Joann and Mike, while Tom leaned closer to Sven.

“I had no idea you were such a good composer. I mean, I’m not very well versed in metal, so I couldn’t really tell with the stuff Mike made me listen to,” he added with an apologetic smile.

Sven chuckled.

“That’s pretty understandable. Metal can sound like a hot mess if you’re not used to it. I mostly composed metal because that was what our band was known for, but I never stopped composing other genres on the side. It’s a nice exercise, and writing always the same kind of stuff gets boring after a while anyway,” he said, sheepishly taking a sip of his beer when he was done with his explanation.

Tom nodded in acknowledgement.

“I think this concert will be a great success.” He said, smiling widely.

“Let’s hope so. Liam hasn’t always been… cooperative in our live concerts.” Sven mumbled, grip tightening around the glass bottle. Thinking about it was aggravating.

“What do you mean?” Tom asked in confusion.

“Well in the past he’s decided he wasn’t getting enough attention _I guess_ , and sometimes randomly decided it was time for bass solos. More than once. Very often in the middle of my riffs.” He explained, exasperated. But that was not the real problem. He didn’t mind Liam’s playing, it was amazing. What really bothered him was the way he seemed to enjoy being on bad terms with everyone around him.

Tom snorted, amused, but sympathetic.

“Wow.” He just said, and Sven couldn’t agree more.

 

There was a short pause in their conversation, during which Mike and Joann’s mundane chit chat and laughter dominated, and then Tom leaned close again.

 

“Say, they never told me what happened to the previous drummer. Is it okay if I ask you?” he said, obviously being very cautious with the subject.

Sven smoothed the front of his shirt with his open palm, subconsciously pouting slightly in thought.

“Well… When you become renowned as a band, you kind of tend to let yourself go with some temptations. We were drunk off our faces constantly at the beginning, and sometimes we would meddle with the crowd after the show, when everyone was so fucked up that they couldn’t even recognize each other. Most of us soon realized what we were doing, so we promptly grew out of it — it’s a very taxing lifestyle, and I noticed a severe drop in my creativity after an accumulation of those crazy nights when we were on tour. I guess it depends on your ability to tell fun and work apart. In this medium the line is so thin and easy to cross, it’s quite tempting. We all had our depravation period, and he just… didn’t grow out of it. We were too late in realizing he was so easily taken over by it all, and soon enough he was using hard drugs. He would show up very late, fall out of tempo, snap at us and generally look really uncomfortable. We tried to help him, and when nothing else worked, we told him that if he didn’t get a hold of himself he would have to leave.” He paused and shrugged. “And so he did.”

Tom blinked.

“Just like that? Well, it’s highly probable he thought you were trying to harm him… I’m sorry to hear that. The only thing Mike told me is that he was an exceptional drummer.”

Sven nodded, raking a hand through his hair with a sigh.

“He was. Not many can do what he did. It involved many hours of just drumming away when he was a kid. But you’re pretty good too, your sound is amazing. It’s rare to find drummers who don’t overdo it.” He smiled.

Tom smiled back with a friendly nod.

Sven liked the guy. There was something about him that made him seem really trustworthy.

There was some more general idle chatting and joking around, and after a while, well in the afternoon, the group decided it was time to go home.

“See you on Friday guys. It’s our last rehearse before Saturday, be there on time,” Sven called out behind him as he walked away and waved at the others, who mostly left by car.

They’d offered to give him a lift, but he insisted to walk home, taking the time on the way back to reflect on the day’s events.

Liam was being an issue for the groups’ dynamic; he’d always been, though at the beginning it had been on a much smaller scale. He’d grown confident that they _needed_ him to function, and Sven was starting to question that. Maybe it was time for a clean start… Maybe their stagnancy was a sign for them to start anew, more diversified and unified, without internal obstacles preventing them from moving forward.

On the other hand though, it would be hard to let Liam go. Sven knew that after that, he wouldn’t be able to find another job quickly enough, and he was apparently already struggling economically.

Liam was always silent about himself, but never missed an occasion to berate someone, always loquacious when it came to criticizing, especially when it was directed at Sven himself, as Joann had pointed out earlier.

If only he knew why, maybe he could help.

And there was also the issue with Liam’s dad, but he didn’t even want to think about that matter at the moment.

 

Groaning in frustration, he shoved his hands in his pockets and focused on the way back home.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you paying attention? This is important. Stop spacing out.” Lucy said in a stern voice, shaking her head in disbelief, her bleached hair swaying with the movement.

Gael blinked grimaced, lowering his head.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

“As I was saying, one sponsor has already retracted this month. This seriously draws back our budget. I don’t know how long we can go on like this, Gael. You need to make a decision, and soon.” She said sternly.

He looked her in the eye, lips slightly pursed. He was starting to get annoyed by her inability to understand his point of view.

“You know very well, as my manager, that when I go under the knife I’ll effectively lose _all_ my sponsors. This is not something I can afford right now. If there’s an alternative solution, I’ll take it, all right? We don’t even know what I have for sure. A biopsy is too extreme, for now.”

She furrowed her brow but didn’t argue further, instead adjusting her glasses with a disgruntled sigh.

“Fine. We’ll wait longer. But I’m ready to drop out at any moment if you become unreasonable.”

He rolled his eyes and got up, exiting the hospital room with a sigh of his own, automatically heading for the roof.

 

His health problem was a secret he and Lucy kept from his trainers and sponsors, the cover for his absence being that his mother was currently near death and he wanted to spend the remainder of her time alive with her. A grotesque lie, since his mother had already passed away when he was around ten years old, taking her own life and leaving his father with him and his three younger siblings.

 

He couldn’t take the risk of them finding out about his current condition, or his whole career could be reduced to nothing in an instant. The doctors were struggling to determine what exactly he was suffering from and suggested a biopsy, but a scar on his abdomen would be like a nail on his coffin. Not to mention the recovery time after such an invasive surgical procedure.

 

No, there certainly were less destructive methods, if only the doctors could get their head in the game and figure out what he had already.

 

He was about to step out onto the rooftop, when he remembered the last time he’d been there. It was when he surprised Sven about to light a cigarette, and he promptly strode over to chuck it down below.

He grinned at the memory, but also remembered their deal, and headed back inside instead.

In search for some distraction, he started roaming the sterile corridors, whistling to himself as he passed by the many closed rooms.

He was used to them being always shut off, and he didn’t see other patients often — and when he did, they were unresponsive old people.

Meeting Sven on the rooftop by chance had been a delight; he didn’t think he’d get to hang out with someone near his age, despite the grim reason why they’d met in the first place. His thoughts went to Sven’s comatose friend, and he hoped she’d get better, even if it meant going back to his boring loneliness in the empty hospital.

He was just about to turn tail and leave when he heard someone’s voice calling out.

“Hey you! Redhead! Come in here!” the feminine voice yelled, seemingly from a door set ajar he hadn’t noticed.

Curious, he stepped closer and pushed the door open, poking his head in.

“Hi?” he said, blinking at a teen sitting on her bed, taken aback by her mass of shiny dyed red hair.

“Oh thank God,” she said, waving her hand for him to come in.

He stepped in, gradually more and more confused with each passing second. He raised his brows at her, coming to stand close to the bed.

“I need your help,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to die.”

“ _What_?” Gael said, at a loss.

“I _need_ you to go get me a snack. I’m starving. I can’t live on gross tasteless steamed vegetables anymore. Please, _please_ help me. Now.” She said, looking him intensely in the eye, but glancing at the door every so often.

“The nurses are not around,” Gael said, numbly. “You don’t have to look so scared. Anyway, I don’t think I’m allowed to do that, uh… why are you here?” he asked, taking a consequent look at her.

She had pale skin, making a striking contrast with her wine-red hair. Her eyes were somewhere between light blue and green, and her frame was generally tiny and fragile-looking.

“There’s something weird going on with my legs lately,” she dismissed, “it’s got nothing to do with what I eat, but they just give me the default hospital food stuff, and it’s _killing me_ I swear.”

Gael chuckled. That girl sure knew how to be dramatic, but he knew the struggle.

“Sure. What do you like?” he asked with a shrug.

She looked at him wide eyed.

“Really? You’re my savior. I’ll owe you forever. I like anything, but just _fast_. Give me the fat stuff. Anything overly sugary or greasy is _excellent._ ” She said, nodding with eyes closed.

Gael hummed in response and left, checking his back pocket for his wallet. He should have enough to get her some snacks.

He went back to where he’d been talking to Lucy and picked up the jacket he’d been logging around, put it on and headed outside.

There were a few convenience stores further up in the city, so he set his course and walked fast through the empty streets.

He was about to enter the store when a familiar figure passed by on the other side of the road, hands deep in pockets and long hair swaying behind with each step.

“Sven!” he called out, smiling.

The taller man seemed to snap back to reality, jolting slightly, and looking around, a bit lost, before he spotted Gael and gave a curt not. He strode over, crossing the deserted road.

“You’re wearing a jacket,” he stated with a small smile.

“You don’t reek of tobacco,” Gael shot back instantly.

“Touché. But I did have a few beers, if that’s okay by you.” Sven snorted. “Anyway, I never saw you out of the hospital. What’re you doing around here at this time of day?”

“I was just going to buy some stuff for a…” He paused there, unsure of what to say. “A friend, I guess.”

Sven didn’t seem to mind the hesitation, instead looking up at the sky.

“Now that I think about it, you did mention you’d just come here. Where are you staying?” he asked, and Gael was surprised he hadn’t thought of that earlier.

“I’m staying at a hotel a few blocks away from the hospital. It sucks, but at least it’s cheap,” Gael answered with a chuckle.

“Wow, glad you manage to stay optimistic. How’s… you know.” Sven said, quieter.

Gael paused. He felt bad about lying to Sven, but he supposed it made no difference.

“It’s, well, strange I guess, the doctors aren’t sure of what’s going on, so they’re running a lot of tests and X-rays. It’s exhausting but I’m sure they’ll find out eventually.” He really hoped.

Sven nodded, eyes downcast.

“I also stop by your friend’s room every so often,” Gael blurted out without thinking, and immediately regretted it. He didn’t know Sven enough to tell what his reaction would be.

But Sven just looked up, surprised, before smiling genuinely.

“Thanks. It means a lot.” He said.

There was a comfortable silence between them while the sun finished setting, the streetlights painting the snow around them with gold. For the first time since he’d been hiding his condition, Gael felt the weight lift off his chest slightly, like he was living a normal life again.

“Hey,” Sven said after a few seconds, ending Gael’s train of thought. “Since I’m seeing you around so much, you should come and have a drink with us. It’d take your mind off things. I’m sure my friends would like you, too.” He offered with a smile.

Gael was taken aback, but nodded and mirrored Sven’s smile.

“Sure, I’d love to.”

“Alright, try to make sure you have a phone number next time I see you at the hospital then”, Sven joked, and pat him on the shoulder. “See you around, Gael.”

With that, he nodded and went on his way.

“Yeah,” was all Gael could say in answer. He hadn’t expected to get the opportunity to meet people while on such a grievous expedition.

He walked up to the convenience store, step spry and a smile on his lips.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: lyrics from “a lack of understanding” by the vaccines.


	5. Hungry friendship established

When Gael came back, night had long since fallen and snow had started to come down yet again. He made his way back to the girl’s room, humming along the way, lugging a plastic bag full of candy and chips.

He stepped in with a wave and promptly dumped the bag on the girl’s lap, then grabbed the armchair in the corner of the room and dragged it to the side of the bedhead.

She jolted awake, blinking a few times, before she understood the situation.

“Oh my god, I’d given up on you, I thought you were never gonna come back!” she exclaimed, excitedly digging through the bag.

Gael smiled apologetically.

“Sorry about that,” he said, watching her wolf down a candy bar in a millisecond. “I bumped into a friend on the way. Anyway what’s your name?”

She looked up from her victim with an intrigued look on her face.

“Right, names, I totally forgot about that. I’m Amaryllis, nice to meet you, and thanks for the food.” She announced with a soft smile. “I’ve been checking in here regularly for two months, but was only admitted in as a permanent patient one month ago.” She added while examining one particularly strange-shaped potato chip.

He smiled back.

 “I’m Gael. I’ve been here since about two weeks now.” He offered with a nod.

 “You must be bored as hell huh. There’s not that much to do around if you don’t know the right places. They’re kinda hard to find since there aren’t that many.” Amaryllis explained while shoving a fistful of potato chips in her mouth with loud crunches.

“Spot on. I met a nice guy, but he seems pretty busy.” Gael shrugged.

“Then how’d you meet him?” she asked, arching a brow.

Gael chuckled. “It’s a bit of a sad story. He came to visit his friend who’s in a coma, and I found him bummed out on the roof.”

She grimaced through her chewing. “Tough luck, poor bastard. Though people come in all the time, they mostly leave after a short stay.” She sighed. “But I gotta admit it’s nice to see fresh blood around. I was getting bored with all these mummies around, so I hope you’ll be sticking around a little longer, even if it means needing medical attention.”

She grinned at that, and turned her attention back to her prey. A comfortable silence settled in, and Gael couldn’t hold back a small smile. She must have been incredibly lonely in this hospital, for however long she’d been there.

“Anyway, about those right places you mentioned…”

 

* * *

 

Dull grey light filtered through the blinds when Sven sat up on his bed, guessing it should be around six in the morning. He yawned, his eyes tearing up, and stretched his back and arms with a pained groan. He hadn’t managed to sleep well, nervous about the concert on that day. The practice on Friday had gone without too many issues, except from a few technical ones they were quick on resolving — and Liam’s usual moodiness of course.

He figured that, since he was already awake, he might as well do something.

He dragged himself out of bed, shivering hard when the morning cold clawed at his exposed skin, and waddled over to where he kept his clothes, digging around for his sweatpants and his scratchy — but warm — sweater.

Once he’d pulled his clothes on, he went about brewing some coffee, leaving the kettle to heat by itself while he went and picked his guitar up.

He did a few vocal exercises to wake his voice up gently, and then started singing the songs he’d chosen for the night’s event. At first his voice didn’t quite cooperate, but soon enough he reached something he considered good enough for the time being, right before the kettle started whistling.

He poured the hot water on top of the dark powder in his cup, wrinkling his nose at the smell of below-average quality coffee.

“ _It’s fine,”_ he thought to himself as he gulped down the murky liquid with distaste. “ _It’s just to keep going until tonight.”_

When he was done with the cup, he dismissed it in the sink as his phone rang. He knew Mike would be up as early as him, since he was the one with a big car — meaning he was the one who had to come pick up everyone and their gear. Sven had opted to only take his guitar, and relied on the place’s own amp. They’d tested it the previous day, and he’d been satisfied with it.

He flung an old faded black backpack with his wallet and a few other things on his shoulder and picked up his guitar in its case, texting Mike to let him know he was on his way to his place. He picked up his keys and kicked the door close behind him, not bothering to lock his door. He shoved the keys in the front pocket of the backpack and strode down the empty streets, shivering and keeping his arms close to his body.

 

The few lethargic people he passed by only cast him a quick glance or directed a slight nod in his direction as he did so himself, but his way to Mike’s house was undisturbed and uneventful. When the nice family house came into view, he had already warmed up due to his speed walking. He stepped up and stood on the brand new doormat, sparing a glance to the message on it. It read, “F#ck Off”. He snorted and pressed the doorbell briefly.

The white wooden door opened, giving way into Mike’s nicely decorated home. His wife was mostly responsible for that.

“Hey,” Mike said, voice still hoarse, and stepped aside to let Sven in. The younger man stepped inside and nodded to his friend.

“What’s up?” he asked, offering a slight smile.

Mike bit back a yawn and stretched his arms, straining the fabric of his white dress shit in the process.

“I was just making coffee. I’m making one for you, too.” He said, turning on his heels to step towards the kitchen, beckoning Sven to follow suit.

He did, taking a seat at the round table. Mike’s house was bright, decorated mostly with white and silver, and every so often an object of vivid colour came into the mix in what Sven thought to be the perfect balance between sober and tasteful. He propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand, sighing comfortably.

“How’s the wife and the little ones? I haven’t seen the three of them in a while.” He said, eyes tracking Mike’s movements as he tussled with his expensive Italian coffee maker.

“Well, Anastasia has been in high spirits lately, so that’s good. It reflects a lot on Julia, but Theo’s kinda still going through _that_ phase.” He said, his tone growing slightly exasperated at the end of the sentence, but Sven still could hear the fondness in his words.

Julia was only 6 years old and a very bright and spry kid, while Theo, a kid they had adopted when he was 5, was more of a rebel, being the elder at 12 years now. Both the kids held Sven very dear, since he was kinda like the uncle they never had, in a way. Theo would confide in him and Sven would give him pieces of advice following his own life experiences, and Julia would always orbit around him to play and try to braid his hair. He didn’t mind them, and Mike had been a dear friend since a very long time. He’d been reluctant at first when he’d announced he was going to marry at 23 eight years ago, but everything had turned out amazingly well for him. Anastasia was a great woman and Sven was thankful for that, Mike deserved it.

Lost in his musings, he forgot to tell Mike he’d already had coffee, and when a rich-smelling foamy cup was placed in front of him, he figured he could deal with the jitters anyway.

Mike sat in front of him with a huff, eyes on his own cup.

“I’m supposed to be the old one here, but I still can’t drink black coffee,” he said with a chuckle.

Sven smiled and looked at the steam emanating from their beverages.

“It’s an acquired taste.” He said surreptitiously. “At the expense of many sleepless nights cramming, that is.”

Mike snorted and took a sip.

“Have any of the guys texted you yet? Tom should be awake in a minute; he’s staying in the guest room. But I haven’t heard from Joann or Liam.” He stated, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder to where the guest room was, down a bright corridor.

Sven took his phone out of his pocket and shook his head.

“We’ll have to tear down their doors.”

 

* * *

 

 

Once they were all gathered and geared up in Mike’s car, they animatedly made their way towards the bar that would host them that night. The organizers had been given a playlist of their songs and they’d approved it, but now was the time for them to settle their gear, and to leave everything ready so that they just had to come in and practice at 6 pm. They would play on and off all throughout the night, until more or less 2 am — heavily dependent on the public’s reaction to their performance. Their playlist was huge and varied, and the organizers had given them room for improvisation if the people asked for more once they ran out of stuff to play. He knew they’d end up mostly covering once that happened, since their original non-metal material was limited to Sven’s offhand creations.

Mike parked at the back of the establishment, the trunk of his big car pointed towards the backdoors. Two middle-aged men were waiting there, looking fairly relaxed. They helped Tom get his kit inside, and then came Joann with his guitar and Mike with his synth, and finally Liam, bass over his shoulder, his face neutral. Sven closed the doors behind him once he’d locked the car with Mike’s keys and proceeded to join their little procession in the main room.

Sven cast a critical glance around the room. It was spacious, and nicely lit. There were dimmers above the bar at the far end of the room, and modern-looking ornaments dangling down from the ceiling to give off a warm but not invasive light. There was, overall, a feeling of coziness and intimacy about the place that would do just fine. He mindlessly strutted over to the bar and leaned on it, drumming absentmindedly against the polished wooden surface. It had its fair share of scratches and blemishes, he noted.

One of the middle aged man came to stand in front of him, amiably standoffish in his stance, a palm of his hand resting on the lower part of the bar reserved for the waiters to work with.

“The equipment should be in working conditions, since I had a sound engineer come by and check on things just to be sure. We’re excited about tonight’s opening, and we’ve had a lot of positive responses from interested parties. There will be some big numbers tonight, and part of that’s thanks to you and the reputation that precedes you.” He said with a smile. Tony, Sven thought the man’s name was.

“Thanks. But it’s not like we’re such a huge deal with the big crowds, we’re pretty limited to metal lovers as far as I know.” He offered politely, his drumming on the counter picking up its pace surreptitiously and his eyes transfixed on nothing in particular over Tony’s shoulder. The man’s smile broadened at Sven’s ingenuous modesty.

“You know what I’m talking about, M. Kaser —“

“Hey!” Mike hollered from the other end of the room before Tony could finish his thoughts. “Everything works just fine over here, we’re good to go after we go over the specifics!” he completed his sentence with a wave of his hand, as if he’d been in a hurry to get it all over with and enjoy the few hours of freedom they had before being stuck with last-minute practices. Sven couldn’t blame him for that.

He walked over to the rest of his group, Tony in tow. Joann gave a nod in his direction once he reached them.

“I tested your cord and mic as well. Everything’s good to go and the volume settings are dealt with. That sound engineer must’ve known what he was doing.”

Sven nodded back wordlessly.

Tony and his working partner went over a few details, which Sven paid half-hearted attention to. They had already talked about all of it, like when they were supposed to take breaks, how they were allowed to have as many free drinks as they liked — as long as they kept it together of course — and some light-hearted suggestions as to what to do if there were any issues with the public or the equipment, or even their memory.

To be completely honest, Sven was more worried about what he’d planned to do after their meeting was over. He wanted to go to the hospital and give Mrs Bischel a visit, and tell her about the gig. It was just mundane talk, the matter wasn’t even important. He was over his fear of going to see her ever since Gael kicked his ass into it, now instead replaced with an anxious need to be close for as much time as possible, as if that would give her a better chance of waking up sooner.

Soon during Sven’s reverie the meeting was brought to an end, and the band filtered out through the back door, leaving their gear behind. Sven idly followed.

They all exchanged a few words outside, promising to meet up again at around six o’clock or later.

As they each went their way, Sven mechanically reached into his jacket’s chest pocket for smokes, but found the latter empty.

He gave a resigned sigh at the thought of jackets and all too cold snow, before picking up his pace.

 

Once he was in the hospital, he stopped at the reception to greet the nurses. The blonde one was there, and she trotted over to him with a slight smile, taking him off guard.

 

“Hi,” she said, her bubbly disposition suiting her soft singsong voice. “I’ve seen you around a lot, and wanted to talk to you. I never found the time though… But today is pretty calm, so…” she hesitated, clear blue eyes fluttering down for just a second, before she seemed to make up her mind and promptly held a plastic case in his direction, along with a white marker. “My little brother is a pretty big fan of yours, and when I told him you checked in regularly he insisted I get your autograph on his copy of your CD. Um… I’m really sorry if I’m being a bother, but he’s such an avid fan that I just had to try…” her voice faltered as she rambled on, looking nervous and shy.

Sven blinked, baffled. He never expected someone to know him for his music in Davos. It was a first since he’d been here, and he didn’t really know what to say. He felt some manner of pride, of course, but he did his best to hide it. Instead, he opted for a smile, and took both items out of the nurse’s expectant hands.

“Sure, no problem. What’s your brother’s name?” he asked, also reminding himself to ask for the nurse’s name once the deed was done.

“His name’s Jacob, but you can just put Jay, all his friends call him that. He’ll be so happy!” she said, clasping her hands together and smiling wide.

It wasn’t the first time Sven had to sign something for others, but this time it felt really amazing for some reason.

_To Jay, from Sven. Thanks for your support, little guy._

Sven gave her back the CD case and the marker, scratching the back of his neck dully and feeling a little silly. He really hoped the message wasn’t too lame.

When the nurse read it, her eyes shone happily.

“It’s great, thank you so much!” she exclaimed, smiling blindingly once again.

He shook his head.

“It’s no trouble, uh…” he looked at the nurse inquisitively.

“Sarah. It’s nice to finally have talked to you!” she said as she extended a hand towards him.

He shook it with a smile. “Nice to meet you Sarah. I’ll come back tomorrow, but for now I really have to go…” He excused himself sheepishly.

Sarah nodded in understanding and smiled softly once again. “Thanks again. See you later!”

He nodded and turned towards the stairs, climbing them absentmindedly and slightly giddy. She was as nice as he thought she would be.

 

He was still dwelling deep in his reverie when he reached Mrs Bischel’s dim room. The flowers he’d brought from last time — a simple bouquet of white and red roses in a glass vase — were still there, and he only spared them a glance. They really weren’t that great, but he was incredibly bad at picking out flowers, and just gifts in general.

He stepped up to the bed and was about to say something, but a loud crash in the corridor cut all thoughts immediately. His eyes snapped to the door left slightly ajar, and some gasps and muffled words finally convinced him to get up and check onto whatever was going on.

There was a nurse who had seemingly been pulling one of the little steel carts with a shitload of instrument on it, which now mostly lay scattered on the floor around a man who was collapsed against the wall. The nurse was talking to him urgently while checking his pupils and pulse. Sven would have walked away, were it not for the fact that the person collapsed there was Gael. He approached with a frown.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, loud and clear so he was sure he would be heard.

The nurse straightened up and looked at him with wide eyes, while Gael’s head whipped around to look at him with hazy eyes. He looked extremely pale and blood was running down his nose and chin.

“Oh my God.” Sven mumbled, trotting to him. “Come on, you have to get cleaned up.” He cast a glance to the nurse. “Right?”

She seemed at a loss for a second. “Are you a friend of his? If so, I would really appreciate if you could help him to the bathroom indeed, for the time being.”

He nodded and pulled Gael’s arm around his neck for leverage before getting up. Gael was heavier than he expected. He dragged him towards Mrs. Bischel’s room and stepped into her small bathroom, sitting Gael on the closed toilet there.

He grabbed a small towel from the shelf under the sink and wet it slightly before carefully patting at his bloodied face. Gael let him, eyes downcast.

When he was satisfied with his work, he dumped the now red and pink towel into the sink, and put his hands on his hips contemplatively.

“You don’t look like you took a punch to the face. ‘Sup?” he said, breaking the silence that had been weighing down on them from the start.

The redhead shook his head slightly with a faint curl of his lips. It looked tense, as opposed to his usual carefree demeanour.

“It’s the stress, and the lack of sleep. I’ve been spending too much time here, I seriously need to get some rest.” He explained, strain obvious in his voice.

 Sven pursed his lips before guiding Gael as he had previously did, this time dropping him into the couch in the room where Mrs. Bischel slept.

Gael chuckled and thanked him, insisting that it wasn’t necessary, that he was already feeling better.

“Yeesh, those flowers are bumming me dude.” He said, leaning back and resting his head on the edge of the backrest.

Sven shot him a glare that went unnoticed.

“I should’ve left you on the floor,” he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“What, you picked ‘em?” Gael chortled. “Sorry. But I gotta be honest here.”

Sven sighed.

“You gonna be okay going back to the hotel by yourself?” Sven asked in a serious tone.

There was a silence between the two, filled only by the yellow light filtering through the partially drawn curtains, and the dust that lazily floated in it. Sven trailed them with his eyes, jumping from one to the other when they disappeared in the shadows of the room.

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll just call a cab.” Gael said with a wariness that in the moment slipped past Sven’s ears.

 

* * *

 

 

If the sweat accumulated on his brow was of any indication, they were doing great. The bar was filled to the brim, people even queuing outside to try and get in. It had been like that ever since they ended the last rehearsal and opened the bar. At the first strum of a guitar, people flooded in like their lives depended on it. They had already gone through most of the ordeal, and were nearing the programmed end of their performance. The guys were going wild, he could sense their enthusiasms in their playing. They were doing great. He wasn’t. Something bothered him about his visit to the hospital, from being unable to really talk to Mrs. Bischel to the dark rings under Gael’s eyes and the tired rasp in his voice. He owed the guy a solid, and letting him limp away hadn’t felt that great. He’d look for him first thing in the morning at the hospital and kick him into getting a cell phone.

“… _But it’s no use with you, we don’t talk like we used to._ ” Sven vocalized, marking the end of their last song. The guitars’ chant extended, the last notes dragging on above the people’s excited cries and screams. His mind was foggy as he waved to the public, smiling widely. Maybe he’d had one too many of those free drinks.

As some music now blasted from the woofers, he got down the stage and into their improvised backstage area to drop his guitar in its case, fingers itching for a smoke. But when he turned around, unlit cigarette between his lips, he found himself nose to nose with Liam.

“Dude, the fuck?” he slurred, brows knitting. He felt a drop of sweat get lost in his collar.

Instead of an answer, Liam hit him with a hook of the right, his head turning at the impact and his smoke knocked out of his mouth.

His mind whirred and buzzed in the moment. He whipped his head around to glare hazily at Liam, some strands of hair plastering themselves to his drenched neck in the movement. He tasted blood from his lip.

With a groan, he threw himself at Liam, landing one painful looking punch right in his nose. Liam whimpered and retaliated with a knee to the shin, but Sven was too furious to care at that point. He grabbed a hold of Liam’s arm and forced him to turn around, before pushing him violently against the wall, face first. He yelled in pain, and soon the others came in with their instruments and wide eyes.

“What’s going on?” Mike urged, looking between Sven’s bruised cheek and cut lip and Liam pinned against the wall.

“Ain’t that _just_ the question.” Sven seethed between his teeth.

Mike knew better than to put the blame on Sven. While it was true that he’d picked his share of fights back in the day, he’d grown out of that habit as he got older. The others however, were a little more intoxicated than even Sven, and just looked baffled.

“Can you explain, Liam?” Mike asked, looking quite nervous and jittery.

Liam spat, a string of red saliva sticking to his chin. “Did you deaf assholes not _hear_ this motherfucker tonight? We land a gig — and this fucking idiot ruins everything.”

Mike’s brows furrowed, and Joann drunkenly stared at Liam as if he’d grown a second head.

“You people really are tone deaf. He didn’t even _try_. What the fuck were you thinking, Sven.”

Sven released Liam, who angrily adjusted his soaked shirt. An uncomfortable, tense silence settled over the group.

 _He’s right._ Sven thought. _My mind was elsewhere and I didn’t perform as well as I could have under better circumstances._

Mike was the one who broke the silence.

“Whatever it is, Liam, I’m pretty sure you were the only one to hear it, and even if Sven had screwed up it’s not really a reason to beat him up. The public loved us, or are you the deaf one here maybe?”

Liam turned towards Mike, giving his back to Sven, making him unable to see his expression. Mike shrugged and arched a brow. There was some more silence, before Liam stormed out through the back door, loudly slamming it behind him.

 

One thing was certain to Sven as he begrudgingly rubbed his cheek: he would wake up with more than just a hangover to worry about in the following morning.


	6. Together

And he was right.

He felt like he got ran over. He woke up on his hurt cheek, and the pain was piercing.

He stumbled to the sink to take a look. It was purplish and somewhat swollen. His lower lip was reddened where it had been cut, and his shin hurt with every step. And all of that without accounting for the piercing hangover that threatened to annihilate his brain.

He grunted and considered going back to bed, but he’d already made his mind the previous night — which at the time was murky and unreasonable — that he’d visit the hospital first thing in the morning. Granted, midday wasn’t quite _morning_ per se, but he’d just woken up so to him it sure as hell felt like it.

He took a quick shower and slung his bag (which he hadn’t bothered to unpack the previous night when he wobbled to bed after having been dropped off by a cab) on his shoulder and exited his loft.

 

He should’ve expected the nurse — Anna was it? — to make a fuss of his all too shabby appearance. She insisted he followed her to one of the consulting rooms since they were empty at that time of day, so he did.

“Hold still,” she instructed while she shuffled around with some stuff Sven couldn’t be bothered to analyse at the present time. In other circumstances he would’ve been pumped about Anna’s concern about him, and taking him into a room where they were alone, but his mind was elsewhere and his hangover prevented him from thinking as straight as he should have.

She pressed a cold pack to his cheek, and he hissed.

“You should avoid hot beverages, hot showers and absolutely no smoking, and hold this right there for the next 20 minutes. I’m not going to make you stay here, don’t worry… But just hold it there, okay?” She instructed with a sweet smile.

He grunted half-heartedly in response.

“I heard you had a concert yesterday, so I assume that comes from there… Is there anything else you’re worried about? You’re walking funny, too.”

He just shook his head in denial, and she pouted.

“Okay, I’ll let it slide. But you owe me one.”

He smiled as warmly as he could and got up from the examination table she’d made him sit on.

“I do,” he said, before exiting the room and limping towards the stairs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The previous afternoon’s incident had left a dent in Gael. He felt exhausted and lightheaded. He didn’t know what to do with himself at the present time since the doctors had called him so early in the morning, and he’d been hanging around ever since. Half the day had passed and they still hadn’t told him anything, except from “stay in the premises so we can find you if need be”. He’d huffed but agreed, mostly because he had nothing better to do for the day. He knew he couldn’t visit Amaryllis because he’d learned she usually slept until three in the afternoon — “because I can”, she’d said with seriously uncalled for pride — and he’d already passed by Sven’s friend’s room, mentioned how much he hated the old guy who did his check-ups because his hands were cold as steel and he’d be just stern as a corpse, but there’s only so much he could tell a person he’d met already in a coma.

So there he was, sitting in the corridor, looking at the nurses on the other end of it through heavy lids, wondering what they were arguing about.

He definitely wasn’t expecting someone to flop down besides him with a recognisable huff, and he jumped at the unexpected sound. He whipped his head around and surely enough Sven was looking at him with grouchy eyes.

“Hey,” he husked.

Gael just blinked at him, and his huge bruise.

“What the hell?” he answered, staring caught between wonder and amazement. He didn’t know bruises could sport so many colours. Sven rolled his eyes and sighed, looking down at the cold pack between his hands. “Long story,” he answered, and Gael blinked again, brows furrowing. “You should probably hold that up to your face, huh.” He suggested, pointing down at the object of Sven’s attention. That earned him another eye-roll, but the taller man complied.

There was a moment of silence, disturbed by Gael suddenly snickering, then giggling, before outright bursting into laughter. Sven stared, perplexed, and when Gael’s laughing fit did not diminish, he found himself bubbling with laughter too. Soon they were two heaving messes, gasping for breath and wiping tears from the corner of their eyes. The nurses at the other end of the corridor soon got fed up with their ruckus and loudly shushed them for the sake of the sleeping patients.

Sven tugged on Gael’s arm, leading him to Mrs Bischel’s room, closing the door behind them.

The redhead leaned against the wall, hands on his knees to breathe, while Sven still chuckled, back against the door.

“God, we look like proper bags of shit,” Sven huffed out.

The redhead wiped at his eyes again. “We look like we’re ready for Halloween.” He sniffled, and there was a warm silence for a few seconds. “Did you get jealous of my groove yesterday or what?” he asked, peering over at his once again uncovered cheek and cut lip with a smirk.

Sven snorted. “Oh yeah. I saw you and thought damn, this guy is ready to rock Paris’ catwalks.”

He followed Gael’s movement when the latter walked over to the armchair and dropped himself in it, propping his legs up on the armrest. “Yeesh. Anyway, you definitely look like you have a story to tell. And your face already told half of it, so you’re pretty much obligated now.”

Sven mock gasped. “How dare you.” He got off the door, walking over to Mrs Bischel’s side. From his angle, Gael could only see the good side of Sven’s face, lazy rays of golden light honey-coating the angles of his jaw and cheekbone. He snorted at the thought of Sven’s face being half daylight half galaxy-looking. “It’s actually not that interesting. I just messed up at a thing yesterday, and a guy picked up on it and got angry. It was my fault; I shouldn’t have let outside shit alter my performance.” He sighed, tapping nervously at the plastic barrier that surrounded the bed.

Gael sat there in silence, considering the information. “Well,” he started leisurely, “It also was kind of uncalled for from the dude. If he knew you were fucking up and was able to pick up on it, then that should definitely… Encourage him to ask you if everything’s okay, you know?” He gestured with his hands to make up for the lack of clarity in his words, but Sven didn’t have to look at him to get his point. The selfish part of him thought the same. The long-haired man gave another sigh, turning back towards the redhead.

“Well, that’s okay. I don’t really want the likes of him fussing over me. Plus, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Gael snorted at that, prompting a swift “shuddup” from Sven. “Anyway you’re talking about _performance_ here, but what exactly does that mean?” he asked, propping his head on his hand, elbow on top of the backrest.

Sven hesitated. His friendship with Gael, or rather the beginning of it, felt natural, and not based on ulterior motives such as his fame. Such things became rare and he’d learnt to really appreciate them. He didn’t have to put too much thought into it to make up his mind.

“I have… a garage band with some of my friends. We landed something yesterday and they were counting on it to make us more known among the local public, so it really wasn’t the time for me to fuck up.” He said, pointedly keeping his gaze averted.

Gael remained silent for a few seconds, then hummed.

“Well, did the public boo at you? Did anyone notice you underperforming?” he asked with a shrug.

It was silly, really. Getting advice from a competitive swimmer, about his music and wreck of a social life of all things. But hearing that from the redhead just then, made the weight on his chest somewhat lighter, and maybe his head didn’t hurt as bad as he thought.

He smiled.

“C’mon, we’re getting you a cell phone, since you’re obviously incapable of getting one by yourself.” He said, motioning to the door with a jerk of his head.

“I resent that,” Gael answered, but it didn’t affect his getting up to follow Sven out that door.

 

* * *

 

 

Gael had left with some manner of guilt nested in his chest, but it was very soon forgotten in between idle chat and being out with someone else. He hadn’t done something of the like in a long time, and recalling the last time wasn’t very pleasant anyway.

Sven, despite his gruff demeanour and tone, was actually quite alright to be around, conversation rocking back and forth easily, and when there was silence between them it felt okay.

They stopped at some manner of shop (he didn’t really pay too much attention) while Sven discussed with the shopkeeper, and passed him some money. The shopkeeper held out a plastic bag and a tattooed arm reached out to grab it with a curt word of thanks. Gael was watching the exchange from outside, buried too deep in his own thoughts to fully process what was happening.

The doctors had said his condition was worsening, and he had no idea where things were heading for him. It was oppressing, and he couldn’t sleep the previous night when he was alone at the hotel. It gave him a feeling of unreality, every sound around him seemed dimmed down and the colours seemed obnoxiously brighter.

He was still spaced out when Sven’s hand landed on his shoulder. He blinked and looked at the taller man’s curious expression with confusion.

“… Huh?” he said, seeing as Sven looked like he was waiting for an answer to something. The longhaired man offered a slight snicker.

“I said: are you okay.” He repeated, his hand sliding off from Gael’s shoulder. “You look like you could use a nap.” He chuckled. Gael frowned in response. “Uh, yeah. I’m okay. I was just spacing out, didn’t get a whole lot of rest yesterday. Stress and all.” He answered as he gave a tense smile.

Sven shrugged and shoved the bag he’d just got in Gael’s arms.

“Anyway, there you go. Now we don’t have to rely on lucky encounters in the hospital anymore. Feel free to give me a call whenever, I already asked the clerk to input my number.”

Gael stared at the bag in his arms and slowly opened it, dumbfounded. There was a little box, its seal broken, with the picture of a bright red cell phone on it. It was a flip-phone, the one everyone thought was so cool when he was a teen. There were some papers alongside of it, likely the contract papers for his brand new SIM card.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked, raising his gaze once again towards the long-haired male inquisitively. The latter just waved his hand over his shoulder with an exasperated look on his face. “Nothing, you _goof_. Now let’s go get something to eat, I’m starving. C’mon.”

Gael, dumbfounded, let himself be guided through town until they found a place that seemed to suit Sven’s liking. It was nothing grand, but the atmosphere seemed quiet and that’s all that mattered to the both of them on that day. They sat inside and soon enough the menu was brought to the both of them.

Gael stole glances at the not-so-tough but still tough looking man in front of him, finding a certain poesy in the way he frowned and chewed on his lip, brows furrowed in what had to be the inner battle of the century to decide on a dish that would meet his expectations. Sven turned out to be quite the puzzle, and he was missing an important piece. Somehow he knew there was something the long-haired man was tip-toeing around in what was a precarious dance with the freckled swimmer. He might be sick, but he was persistent as ever. And the fact that the both of them were hiding something potentially equally important just split his face with a thrilled grin.

Sven raised his brows at him and waved his hand in front of his eyes, putting an end to Gael’s musings.

“Earth to Gael? Are you sure it’s your mom that’s sick? I’m starting to worry here.” Sven snorted, and Gael’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe he was the one precariously dancing around a brazen fire.

“Did you finish torturing your mind over what to get yet? Your pained expression begged for a hand. You can’t go wrong with a steak you know.”

Sven shook his head.

“What? No, you got it all wrong. You clearly meant fish.” He dismissed Gael’s suggestion with a wave of his hand.

 Fish?” The redhead gave his best rendition of an overdramatic outraged expression. “Surely you jest.”

“Or do I.” he huffed a sigh and propped his chin on his hand, signalling he was done with their pretend word duel. “So you really don’t like fish or are you joking?” he asked and went on to wave to the waitress.

“I’m honestly not crazy for it. It’s just not my thing.”

“Then you mustn’t have tasted any good fish.” The singer shook his head in disapproval.

“What’s good fish then?” The redhead crossed his arms, a brow cocked in cynicism.

“I’ll show you one day.” The other replied with a genuine smile.

 

* * *

 

 

After their lunch, they parted ways. Sven had tried to foot the bill for the restaurant, but Gael stood his ground that time, and smacked the long-haired man up the back of the head when he reflexively hung a smoke between his lips as they had gotten out of the place. He now was in possession of a cigarette pack he didn’t know what to do with, and no precise goal in mind.

He vaguely remembered the doctors telling him to stay around that very same morning, so he steered himself slowly towards the hospital.  

He was greeted by a plethora of reprimands directed at him, and when Lucy made a beeline for him he couldn’t help but turn right on his heels and try to make a break for it. Unfortunately for him, he got dizzy again and had to lean on the frame of the entrance door in order to not eat a piece of flooring at that very moment.

A vice-like grip landed on his shoulders, and he mentally said his prayers.

“Oh Valhalla…” he lamented, and hence came Lucy’s soliloquy.

As he was shaken by the shoulders, he vaguely heard her talk about grave situations and sponsors and disasters, before she gave an anguished scream and he was forced to pay attention to her and her horrified expression.

“What’s wrong? It looks like you saw the dev…”

He begun, but his sentence was cut by the aberrant taste of iron in his mouth. He reached a hand up to his upper lip and grazed his fingers against it, feeling warmth and wetness beneath their tip.

The doctor assigned to his case came rushing forth and pried Lucy away from him, for which he was grateful. He was rushed back up into his room by the doctor and his assistants, who looked wide-eyed and frankly quite clueless. He wondered if that was their idea of putting the patient at ease, or if they were expecting him to put _them_ at ease.

He could only chuckle to himself at the absurd, but given the circumstances, conceivable idea.

What happened then was a blur to him, all he knew was that the blood was wiped off his face a few times during the next excruciating moment. The doctor’s lulling voice kept putting him into a thoughtless stupor, and Lucy’s interjections served as a splash of icy water on his conscience. He was going to get it this time, he knew it.

When the doctor left the room along with the assistants, he was left alone with his manager and his fear for his life.

“Did you listen to any of what the doctor has said to you? Or are you being just as immature as always?” she seethed, arms crossed over her chest. She was red-faced.

He let his head fall to his shoulder, relieved that there were pillows behind his back to keep him upright. He felt like a pile of overcooked spaghetti noodles. Which reminded him of Lucy’s hair. He snorted.

That action didn’t fail to make Lucy throw her arms up in the air with anger, her face growing even redder.

“Bolognese.” He huffed, chest bubbling with more laughter. The remnants of his sanity wondered what kind of drugs they put into his system this time.

Lucy said something about warnings and last times before storming out of his room, and he immediately succumbed to a restless sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

The back of his mind stirred him awake, slowly and painfully. He heard some sort of crunching sound, and judging by the pain shooting through his entire body, he assumed it had to be his bones grinding themselves to dust.

 

After enduring for a few minutes, he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t that lucky.

He forced his eyes open, leaden eyelids losing the fight after a good four attempts.

“Sup, sleeping beauty.” Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

He groaned. There was a blur of scarlet and blue next to him, source of the loud crunching.

He was tempted to tell the entity to kill him, but she spoke again before he had the chance to.

“You look like you’ve been through hell and back, son.” The entity said, and it wasn’t hard to identify her as Amaryllis.

“Sure feels like I have, too,” he quipped, the husk in his voice alarming him.

Amaryllis was highly amused by the sight, and couldn’t help but chuckle to herself.

“I gather that you messed up, maybe you oughta take your own illness a little more seriously before it decides to take _you_.” She said, wiggling her fingers in a poor attempt to caricaturise a witch. Gael made a point to shoot her an annoyed glare for that.

He grunted and wiggled in the tangled sheets so he could lie on his side, facing Amaryllis. She was sitting in the armchair Lucy liked to use while lecturing him, magazines and candy wrappers scattered around her like autumn leaves, a bag of chips on her lap.

“So you still have some of the stuff I bought you, huh…” he wondered aloud. He was sure she would’ve devoured everything by then.

“Yeah. You learn to ration after suffering for as long as I have.” She said, faking a sob at the end of her sentence, discredited completely by the crunch that followed.

“Ugh… anyway. I didn’t know you could leave your room.” He said, gaze transfixed on the victims that her slender fingers brought to her insatiable mouth.

“Hey. Just because I sleep a lot doesn’t mean I’m completely useless. I can still walk around even if it’s not for too long. I’m weak right now, not dead you know.” She wiggled her pointer finger at him with an offended pout.

“Whatever… Was there a blond lady in here?” he asked, making Amaryllis pause in her carnage.

“Yeah, actually. I was in stakeout mode in the corridor until she left. She kinda gives off some scary vibes. Is she your girlfriend or something?” Amaryllis asked with far more interest than she should have, a wide predatory grin stretching her salt-reddened lips.  

Gael pretended to gag in response, making Amaryllis giggle.

“Figured as much,” she continued. “You don’t seem the type to go for cougars.” She nodded to herself.

“Then what type do I seem?” Gael asked with a cocked brow.

Amaryllis mimicked his expression, as if to question if he really wanted to know what she was going to say. Gael remained silent, prompting her to shrug and shove a chip in her mouth.

“Totally gay type.” She announced shamelessly between disinterested crunches.

Gael’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she observed him with a wolfish grin.

“Got you figured out, swimmer boy.” She chanted.

“… How did you know that? And _that_?!” he pressed, kind of angry she was able to figure him out like he was an open kiddie’s book.

“Well, you know. Observation. It’s not hard to tell, unless you’re blind or stupidly oblivious. You have that gay aura going on if you ask me. As for the swimming thing, I overheard Noodle Hair and the docs talking in the corridor.”

Gael didn’t know whether he should be angry or if he should laugh himself to asphyxiation. After brief consideration, he decided on the latter.

Amaryllis’ look of self pride didn’t help any, and he laughed until tears formed at the corner of his eyes.

There was a pause in their conversation, mainly occupied by Gael recovering his breath.

“Anyway,” Amaryllis pursued. “I am happy to dub you my first gay friend. I hope you live up to my expectations.” She extended a greasy, salt-covered hand.

“And you’re my first shitty brat friend. Already deemed perfect for the role.” He shot back and took her hand, beaming internally at her mischief-filled sparkling eyes.


	7. Barista (by design)

There were few things that could disturb a metal singers' peace of mind, and nightmares just happened to be one of them.   
It had been a very long time since his last agitated awakening in the middle of the night, and he absolutely hadn't missed it.   
He sat in his bed, gasping for air, his chest compressed by an unfortunate albeit familiar anxiety. Views of murky, foaming oily waters haunted his mind, a clear contrast with the pale, small flash of white that extended out of it, slowly disappearing beneath the surface as though in slow motion. He could only sit there and shake, his face drenched in sweat and maybe tears.

He found himself completely restless for the remainder of the night, merely lying in his bed and staring out the sole window at the moon and its trajectory downwards to the horizon.

Once morning come, with the air bitingly cold and the light straying around greyish blues and faint orange hues, he felt exhausted further than simple lack of sleep. He slid his hand down his face and sat up sighing, picking up his phone from his nightstand more by habit than necessity. He had received a text the night prior, but had failed to notice due to the device being set to silent mode. He unlocked the screen and squinted blinded by its brightness, painfully identifying the sender as Mike.

[00:21] _Fucking Liam is gone. None of the guys know where the fuck he is and it’d be waaay too convenient if he picked up our calls. Idk what to do about it so I’ll just dump it on you. Sorry bro_

As he read along, his brow furrowed gradually, and when he was done he let himself fall back onto his pillow with an agonizing grunt.

What a stunt.

Two of the original band members, missing. One of — thus far — irreplaceable skill, and now the son of their publisher. He’d taken a punch after initiating and couldn’t take it.

He felt angry, tired and frustrated as he typed his answer to Mike, to let him know he’d gotten the news.

[7:26] _Thanks for letting me know. I guess._

He turned over on his stomach, pressing his face flush against the pillow, and screamed into it.

 

* * *

  
The hand gripping the coffee mug was a discreet tell of his extreme nervousness, among other things, left out for any observant individuals at the coffee shop to notice, in great conflict with the easy rehearsed smile plastered on his lips.   
He sat there as the manager read through his curriculum time and time again, readjusting his glasses now and again and clearing his throat with a concentrated frown.

The manager then bore holes into his face with his droopy eyes, the two grey orbs making Sven squirm.

Fortunately for him, he had taken every last piercing off his ears, wore a long sleeved shirt that did a wonderful job at dissimulating his tattoos, and had his hair tied back in a purposely loose yet neat bun.

Sven’s mood lifted abruptly when the old man gave a slight nod, lips shut tight like those of a child who’d finally decided on what flavor of ice cream to get.

“You’ve got me convinced, and I see it says on here that you have experience in bartending. Right?”   
Sven acquiesced. “I used to be a part time barista to earn some extra money during my years on campus. I know my way around, but I am fine with being put to the test anyway.” Sven said, trying to sound assured.

  
The manager hummed.   
“I will ask my long-time employee to test your abilities, but as far as I’m concerned you’re in. Come this Saturday to meet him, he’ll brief you and you’ll show him what you’ve got. After that, expect an answer on Sunday afternoon, to possibly start the very next day.” The man said with a nod and a smile, and Sven realized he’d underestimated his capacity at looking and sounding friendly.

 

* * *

 

“Wait, that’s the best part,” Amaryllis’ voice filled the sunlit room with a comfortable lull. “She tried to act cool, but when she turned her stiletto heel got stuck in a crack on the curb. She stumbled and caught herself on the car, but she still looked pretty stupid to me,” the girl giggled, and Gael tuned in.   
“So you really hate your mom, huh. It’s not some passing grudge.” Gael said with vague wonder in his eyes. Amaryllis nodded, waving her hand dismissively.   
“She only wants custody so she can get back at my dad. We always got along better with him, and I guess she got jealous. Or maybe she was a bad person from the get go.”

The young man sighed and leant back in his armchair, poking at a rock candy in his mouth with his tongue pensively. He hadn’t thought much about his family ever since he’d gotten to Davos, and he thought he should give his dad a call to at least let him know what was going on.

Amaryllis seemed to catch on, and chuckled. “What’s your family like, do you have siblings?”  
He nodded. “Yeah. They’re nice people, I really miss my sister and my two baby brothers. They were very proud to learn I became successful.”  
She smiled, twirling her hair around her index finger.

“You sound like you miss them a lot, yeah. Why not give them a call? I can lend you my cell phone.”  
Gael perked up at the words, remembering his outing with Sven days ago.   
“Oh, about that. I have a story that might interest you. That guy I told you about once, we went out for lunch together, and he got me a cell phone, out of the blue. I didn’t even realize what he was doing until he shoved it in my hands.”

  
She looked at him, deadpanned. “So this guy just randomly got you a cell phone?” He caught her eyes wandering to the romance novels on her night stand.   
“Don’t get any funny ideas. He’s straight as a pole.” He said with a warning glare, and Amaryllis snorted. “Really. But is he hot?” She smirked victoriously when Gael visibly winced. “When are you bringing him here? Seriously. I thought we were buddies.”

  
Gael rolled his eyes and rocked the whole armchair backwards by pushing against the redhead’s bed.  
“I dunno. He seems really busy. And there’s this whole thing about his friend being in a coma as well, I really don’t want to impose.” Gael shrugged, finally deciding to bite through his candy with a loud crunch.

  
“All the more reason you dork!” Amaryllis exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air, Gael’s eyes following the shiny candy wrappers that flew about with her movement. “He’s gotta be super stressed, I bet he’d appreciate the change of air. So you have to bring him here,” she announced with a toothy grin.

  
“He really seems like more of an introvert honestly,” Gael mumbled, but Amaryllis was not listening anymore, clearly thinking to have won her argument.  
“Anyway Gael, aren’t you a swimmer? Shouldn’t you try to train? I thought these things were really strict.” She asked, unabashedly scanning his frame.

  
He was completely unaffected by the attention, instead nodding in agreement.   
“I should, but I don’t know where I could go, I mean is there even a pool around here?”

  
The dyed redhead shook her head in disbelief. “Dude, what do you think this is? I know it’s not the biggest city but come on! There IS a pool, and it’s not even that far from where you’re staying you bum. I’ll give you the address so pay attention now.” She scolded, exasperated.  
After she was done hammering the address through his thick skull, Gael got up and bid his farewells, thinking it was time to get back to the hotel and maybe give the pool thing a try.

* * *

  
Getting back into the water felt like a true blessing. His weariness and heavy heart were left behind along with all his stuff in the men’s lockers, and he happily plunged into the cerulean blue of his personal oblivion. Each stroke made him feel lighter, the familiar feeling of water gliding along his skin making him feel like his very soul was being cleansed. His mind buzzed with excitement instead of exhaustion for the first time in months.

There were very few people in the pool, so he was free to perform like he usually would without worrying about hurting anyone.   
He swam with abandon for hours on end, and when he finally came out of the pool his fingers were pruned to the max.   
He stared wistfully at them before going to shower and gathering his possessions.

  
Once outside, Gael stopped to enjoy the star-speckled night sky before getting on his way. The trek back to the hotel was uneventful, and once he reached his room and subsequently his bed, he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 

* * *

  
Sven felt at ease, even under the scrutinizing gaze of Jan, the employee in charge of judging his skills behind the counter. The elements were in his favor, since the machine they used was an authentic, well maintained Italian one. Back in his day he’d had to handle much worse, and the thought alone was enough to make him practically worship the café’s pristine material.

  
The test was a breeze.

  
After examining the layers of his capuchino, it seemed as though Jan was convinced. The tall blond man smiled reassuringly and nodded.   
“Not half bad, for a new recruit. I think you’ll make a great addition to our team.”

  
The door to the kitchen then creaked open slowly, a tired young woman slowly peeking out.   
“New recruit?” she rasped, her voice ghastly.

  
A chill visibly ran through Jan’s body, and he shook his head.   
“Don’t mind, Debbie. He’s going to be working out here, leave him alone.”  
The woman slowly retreated back to where she’d come from.

  
Sven raised a questioning brow, and Jan shook his head.   
“She’s the one who makes all the food around here. She used to have an assistant, but since she’s, albeit talented, extremely unbearable, whoever we assign to help her ends up leaving mere days later. Now she says she’d rather die of exhaustion than let “morons” touch her kitchen.” Jan sighed, and left the bar area to start closing up shop. “Anyway we’re done here, so let’s leave through the back door, I’ll show you what’s back there too.”  
Sven nodded and followed after the taller man. They walked through the kitchen silently, Sven casting a furtive glance at Debbie, who was whisking something, completely oblivious to their presence.

  
There was a door opposite to the one leading to the front of the café. It led to a small square room with a few chairs, and two more doors. One was the exit, and the other one a corridor, with the storage room and the staff’s bathroom at the very end. There were lockers next to the door to the bathroom, which Sven thought would come in extremely handy.

  
“Well, that’s about it. I’ll tell the manager you made the cut, and then I’ll be seeing you on Monday.” Jan said with a smile “Congrats on the job, welcome to the team.” He raised his hand expectantly and Sven high-five’d him, feeling a little numb. “Thanks. I’ll see you on Monday.”

 

* * *

  
The following day he was woken up by his doorbell being all but abused.

  
He hastily got up, jumping into his sweatpants, and running to the main door key in hand.

  
Mike was there, right against the door’s window, squinting with his eyes serving as a visor while his breath condensed against the cool glass.   
Sven opened the door abruptly, causing Mike to stumble forward into him.

  
“Get in, you dork,” he chuckled, while Mike grumbled something about tattooed idiots.

  
“Sit,” he told his guest when they entered his studio. He himself went towards the kitchen area to put some water to boil and get two cups out of his cupboard. He made sure to keep the cracked one for himself.

  
He dipped a spoon in the instant coffee container, sighing.

  
“What bad news to you bring with you this time?” he said, tapping the full spoon against the edge of the first mug.

  
“Well,” Mike shuffled on his floor cushion uncomfortably. “actually, I spoke to Joann, and we kindaaa… decided it might be a good idea to have a meeting…” he heaved out, his voice getting quieter with each word, and by the end of his sentence he practically cringed.

  
Sven swirled around, holding the hem of his pants to prevent them from slipping off his hips with the motion.

  
“You mean like the meetings we used to hold back then.” he deadpanned.

  
Back when the band was still young and complete, they used to hold long lasting meetings and would be extremely honest about their thoughts and feelings regarding their project. That’s how they decided what to do, where to go, and who did what. To Sven, those meetings were the heart of their group, because without them, there would be even less cohesion than there had been since they had lost their drummer.

  
He was brought back to reality from his reminiscing when the kettle broke the heavy silence with its compelling whistle.

  
He automatically took it off the fire and poured the two cups, adding some milk to the intact cup. They both remained silent during the whole thing, realisation having slowly dawned on Sven’s still sleep-filled thoughts. The meeting the guys were calling forth was nothing good, that much he could tell just by looking at Mike’s face. He never was good at hiding his intentions after all.

  
He brought the two cups over to the table and dropped himself onto the cushion facing Mike. The latter surreptitiously eyed him, trying to gauge his reaction, but only found out his long-hair friend to be as unreadable as ever. Instead, he dragged his cup toward himself and blew the steam off the top, breathing the scent of shit-grade coffee instead of his usual premium grade.

  
Sven’s hand suddenly banging on the table startled him.  
“Well, it can’t be helped. I guess we’ll be meeting with three heads only.”  
Mike grinned, the strain visible at the corner of his lips.

 

* * *

  
“That makes no sense, is all I’m saying.” Amaryllis declared after a pensive pause, her eyes plastered on the tv up high in the far corner of the room.

  
“Yeah, I get it. I see your point. But you know, in the end we don’t really have means to really _know_ , right? Egyptians had make up.” Gael argued, his eyes straying from the screen to search the teen’s face, who sat on the other side of Mrs Bischel’s bed. The girl scoffed.

  
“Dude. I don’t think a Trojan princess wore mascara. Hollywood is stupid, and it offends me.” She declared haughtily. The young man could only roll his eyes.

  
“Whatever Ama. Give me a candy bar before I bite your head off.”

  
“Can’t,” she replied, mouth full, eyes on the battle unfurling on the tiny screen. “Ate em all.”  
Just when Gael prepared to throw a biting remark, the door pushed open with a screech.

 

* * *

  
Sven gloomily strode across the hospital, mechanically steering towards Mrs Bischel’s room. He bypassed the reception distractedly, too far gone to notice the blonde who watched intently from behind the counter.

  
He was stuck in his apprehension regarding the meeting Mike had spoken of that morning, his skin crawling at the air of finality the whole affair carried with it.

  
He pushed the door to his friend’s room and sighed, slinging his backpack off his shoulder. His eye caught onto something unusual, and he paused to really look the room over.

  
There was a lingering cozy feeling he could feel his arrival had disrupted. His eyes met Gael’s hazel ones, their gazes lingering when Sven wondered about the smaller man’s amused expression, small dimples digging at freckled cheeks.

His answer came wordlessly when he unglued his gaze from the redhead and was met with _another_ redhead.

  
She looked mischievous and completely laid-back, green eyes sparkling with something the long-haired man found himself unable to decipher.

  
“That’s him, isn’t it?” she all but hissed, pointing at him while pointlessly hiding her face with her other hand.   
Sven could only raise a brow.

  
Gael’s chime-like laugh brought his attention back to him.   
“Yeah, that’s Sven.” he said, beaming at the slightly flustered metal singer. Sven averted his eyes, self-conscious.

  
“Uh, hi?” he offered, his eyes roaming back over to the teen.

  
She eyed him critically once again.   
“I like your tats. They’re pretty cool.”

  
He opened his mouth, incredulous, then closed it without a word. She seemed undeterred, still staring openly at him while she brought a recently opened treat to her mouth.   
“Hey, you lied to me,” Gael whined, eyeing the candy bar she held moodily.

  
“Gael what’s going on here?” Sven asked abruptly, patience wearing thin.

The redhead gave him a warm look. “We thought we could offer her some company,” he said while looking at the old lady, still motionless and practically colorless, as if frozen in time. Sven mellowed instantly, both from being reminded of his old friend’s presence, and by the innocence behind Gael’s intentions. “Introduce yourself, at least,” he directed at the girl, while his eyes went back to Sven’s. There was an exaggerated cough, and the girl waved her hand in mock reverence. “I salute you, effeminate one. My name is Amaryllis.”

  
His brow ticked and he opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off.

  
“I already know who you are, Ssssssssven,” she said in a singsong voice, her thumb pointing at Gael, who had gotten up.

  
“Hey,” Gael said in a cheerful breath once he’d gotten close to Sven. Despite himself and the confusing situation, the latter found himself mirroring the redhead’s smile.

  
“Hey.”

  
“Let’s talk outside,” Gael said, already heading for the door.


	8. Santé

Sven cast a curious glance at the girl when he heard her mutter something that sounded like “no fair”.

  
He joined Gael outside the room, mimicking his position by leaning against the wall.

  
He found his frustration and surprise at the recent confusion slowly melt into slight ease and prickling comfort, and sighed.

  
“What’s up?” Gael asked, casting a sidelong glance to the slouched long-haired man while his fingers played with the slightly frayed hem of his shirt.

  
“A lot.” he sighed again, earning a raised red eyebrow. “Gael.” he continued, suddenly turning to face the smaller male and patting both hands on freckled exposed shoulders.   
Gael looked inquisitive, but said nothing, opting to stare at Sven’s face searchingly.

  
“I need a smoke.” the taller man finally released, brow ticking.

  
There was a slight pause between the two of them, abruptly interrupted when Gael burst into laughter. He shook his head in disbelief. “That’s what you were building up to? Damn.” he displayed a complacent smile. “Let’s head up to the roof.”

  
The long-haired man beamed.

Up on the roof, with Gael in his tee-shirt and the cigarette barely leaving Sven’s lips, they both fell into contemplative silence.

  
The bitingly cold air was filled with Sven’s slow exhale, his eyes closing to truly savor what he knew would be his last smoke for a long time.   
“I could say something really deep about the human nature right now,” he mused, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips.

  
“Yeah well, you don’t have to try and impress anyone, really,” the redhead answered, turning to face the view, now both young men leaning forward onto the railing, supported by their respective crossed elbows. After another exhale, Sven spoke again.

  
“So who is she dude?” he finally asked, and despite the annoyed undertone in his voice, Gael mentally commended him for holding back for so long.

  
“Ah, well. She’s a girl I met here at the hospital, she’s not really allowed to leave and I thought they could both use the company, so I introduced them,” he answered, a sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry.”

  
The taller man turned sideways and shoved his hands in his pockets as they made eye contact, one pensive and the other apologetic.   
Sven scrutinized the redhead’s unfaltering grin.

  
“Gael,” he paused meaningfully. “Thanks.”

 

 

He was not paying attention.

  
Though they were back in the room, Gael’s mind was still on the roof, dark eyes pinning him down with uncalled for gratitude. He should’ve asked what the thanks were for, he should have laughed, anything really. But he only stared back, speechless.

  
Sven and Amaryllis were bickering back and forth, seemingly already well-acquainted enough.

  
And he was not paying attention, so he got smacked in the face by a pillow Sven had just dodged.

  
There was a passing moment of silence in the room for the first time since they’d gotten back, both pair of eyes directed at the freckled swimmer. When the latter gave no reaction, Amaryllis shot Sven an accusing glare. “The hell did you do to him, stupid chimney?”

  
Sven immediately got defensive, lifting the collar of his vest to his nose and grimacing when the clingy scent of cold tobacco invaded his nostrils. “Shut up, dyed harpy,” Sven grumbled, getting up to take the pillow from Gael’s lap. “You’re the one throwing shit around,” he said, glaring daggers back at her before waving his eyes in front of Gael’s eyes.

  
The latter chuckled, lowering the tattooed arm with his own. “I’m alive. I’m just thinking.”

  
Sven tilted his head. “About what?”

  
“A lot,” he answered teasingly, grinning. Sven crossed his arms at the redhead, all but pouting.

  
“Fine.” He barely whispered. “Let’s meet up tomorrow after six, and we can talk. In peace.” he grouched, throwing the pillow back to the teen, who was already pestering him for whispering.

  
Gael was taken aback, but nodded wordlessly.

 

 

When the afternoon settled and Sven excused himself from the room, both natural and dyed redheads were left alone with the ever slumbering Mrs Bischel and the lull of the last golden sun rays filtering through the blinds.

  
“He’s cool.” Amaryllis stated simply. Her face was devoid of her usual devilish grin. “I like him.”   
“Yeah,” Gael chuckled. “He is cool.”

O

Sven and Jan made an excellent team, working fast behind the counter. The musician was happy to find out that his old reflexes were quickly recovered, and his blond coworker nodded approvingly, positively surprised each time Sven proved more resourceful and autonomous than expected.

  
By the end of the day, they were sweaty, but had a jar full of tips.

  
They both sprawled themselves out on the chairs in the backroom, drinking avidly from the water bottles they’d gotten from the staff’s fridge in the kitchen.   
“I gotta say,” Jan laughed openly. “I didn’t know how much we needed you until you showed up…”

  
Sven laughed quietly in response, just as Debbie gloomily emerged from the kitchen to sit with them, her apron covered in flour and her auburn hair held back into a loose ponytail.

  
“How’re you holding up?” Jan asked her, a complacent smile on his lips.

  
“I’ll live,” she mumbled, rubbing at the corner of her eyes.

  
Sven smiled too, and their good mood ended up rubbing off on her.   
“You guys are a disease,” she sighed.

  
“Why would you say that?” Jan exclaimed, offended.

  
“You get worked down to the bone and you still smile like a bunch of happy-go-lucky morons. You two should become best friends.”  
Jan and Sven shared an amused look.

  
“Anyway what time is it?” Sven asked, stretching his back, earning himself a series of satisfying pops.

  
“Uh, six thirty.” Debbie answered, face slightly blanched by her phone’s backlight.

  
Sven groaned and got up to get his own phone and backpack at the lockers.

  
[18:31] Where are you at the moment?

  
He sent the text to Gael’s number, feeling slight regret about his offer to talk. He didn’t know what good it could do, and he’d never been one to openly complain about his personal issues.

  
He sat back with the others for another ten minutes before Gael’s answer came in.

  
[18:42] im close to the store i bought a bunch of snacks at once, pretty close to the hospital. ill wait for you there

  
Sven locked his phone and slid it into his pocket and got up.

  
“You leaving already?” Jan asked curiously.

  
“Yeah. Did you need help with anything else?”

  
“Nah, we left everything pretty much spotless already. Go ahead, dude,” he said with good humor, getting up to pat him on the back. Sven nodded and said goodbye to Debbie too before taking his leave.

  
He trotted all the way to the store; and once it came into sight, he smiled at the realization that on the day he’d seen Gael there, he was getting snacks for Amaryllis.

  
He spotted Gael standing close to the streetlight, carrying a large sports bag.

  
“Hey,” he greeted between short breaths.

  
Gael walked a few steps towards Sven when he heard his greeting.

  
“Hey, how’ve you been?” he answered jovially.

  
“Good, I just got off work.” Sven said lightly.

  
Gael looked slightly puzzled, and Sven realized he hadn’t said a thing about his trial on Saturday.

  
“I got a job at a café, it’s not too far away. What I had to tell you is kinda related to that, actually.”

  
Gael nodded in acknowledgement, but tugged Sven forward by the elbow, smiling ever so slightly. “Come on, I need to get somewhere, talk to me on the way?”

  
Sven acquiesced and fell into step next to the shorter man, who casually put his hands in his pockets, his smile still lingering on the corners of his mouth.

  
He was wearing a jacket, and his smug expression just screamed “ _see how I didn’t forget?_ “. Sven snorted, amused.

  
“I got a job because shit is falling apart,” he said simply and quietly, after an idle silence passed between the two of them. Gael walked beside him silently, only casting him a sideway glance Sven could not decipher.

  
The taller man felt his throat knot, and his stomach churned.

  
“I told you about my band, with my friends…” he exhaled noisily through his nose, trying to calm his nerves, but it did little to help. “Some time ago, the drummer disappeared. We never knew what happened to him. And now, just days ago, the bassist does the exact same thing…” He raked a distressed hand through his hair, unaware that they had stopped walking and Gael was now facing him.

  
“None of us needed that. Now the two others want to meet after tomorrow, and I just know what’s going to happen. After we worked so hard and came all this way, all this shit keeps piling up, I can only imagine what’s gonna come next—“

  
He was cut off by Gael’s hands clapping against his cheeks. They were burning hot against his chilled skin.

  
“Stop.” He said, his eyes mercilessly trained on Sven’s. The taller man found himself unable to look away. “It’s not like the world’s ending. Also, breathe.”

  
Sven inhaled sharply, just finding out he’d been holding his breath. Gael’s hands left his face.

  
“If you’re meeting with the others after tomorrow, you still have time to think, and come up with a solution,” the redhead said easily, a standoffish smile hanging nonchalantly on his lips. “Don’t give up before even knowing what’s gonna happen, and just work for the best outcome. It’s all you can do right now anyway. Right?”

  
Sven nodded slowly, unable to talk.

  
“Then don’t worry over it, you’ll only make it more difficult for yourself and cut your own legs before even taking the first steps. Come on.”   
A pat on his back.

  
The words struck home, and his throat finally decided to stop bullying him.   
He didn’t thank Gael, but he might have smiled in relief.

 

“Ah, we’re here.” the redhead announced after they’d walked in companionable silence for about ten minutes.

  
Sven glanced up at the building, and couldn’t say he was surprised when he saw it was a sports complex.

  
Gael placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Things’ll work out.”

  
The metal singer gazed back in wonder, fascinated with the conviction in the other’s voice. It was contagious.   
“Yeah,” he breathed. “Step by step. I’ll see you around… try not to overdo it in there,” Sven chuckled, and Gael turned to enter the building with a casual wave of his hand.

O

Sven grimaced.

  
Stuck sitting squeezed between Joann and Mike, who were stubbornly looking at their respective cups of coffee while he ignored his own in favor of worrying over their attitude, he groaned and dropped his head against the table with a soft bang.

  
“I… guys.” Joann hesitated, brows furrowed.

  
The other two remained silent, except for Mike’s spoon tinkling against the cup. Joann squirmed uneasily.

  
“I need to get a job and lay low for a while.” he said quietly. “This isn’t working for me right now, and as long as we have no drummer and no bassist, we are clearly not going anywhere as a band.”

  
Sven’s heart sunk so deep he thought he might see it fall through his chest down to the floor.

  
“Yeah…” Mike drawled, mumbling. “I’m sorry. We make more than enough with Anastasia alone here… but with two members missing we can’t do shit.”

  
“Sven…” Joann almost whined, burdened to see his friend so down. The long haired man merely grunted in response.

  
There was a resolute silence, and Joann and Mike exchanged a meaningful look.

  
“Sven, buddy.” Mike called gently, contrasting with the open palmed slap that resonated against Sven’s back. The latter immediately straightened up, making a face.   
“We’re not saying we’re quitting,” Mike continued, addressing a complacent grin to his long-time friend.

  
Joann nodded in agreement.

  
“We’re just doing what we always do,” he admitted with an embarrassed smile. “Which is leaving it to you.”

  
Sven blinked slowly, disbelieving. Mike gave an exaggeratedly exasperated sigh.

  
“When you get replacements,” he said slowly, “call to us.”

  
Sven’s lips tightened into a fine line, his heart suddenly swelling.   
He nodded slowly.

O

Gael’s clear laugh filled the empty streets. His hair was wet, a beanie haphazardly covering it after Sven’s reprimand, and he looked tiny in his huge puffy winter jacket.

  
“See, it wasn’t so bad. I’m glad it worked out. And the way things are for you right now, I think you could use a break anyway right?” He offered with good humor.

  
Sven nodded, the tips of his fingers scratching at his scruffy nascent beard.

  
“… Yeah. You’re right, actually.” He mumbled, shoulders losing some of their sag.

  
Gael nodded energetically.

  
They kept on walking towards Sven’s place, the latter having invited his red-haired friend over to hang out and maybe eat something.

  
Once inside, Gael showed no shame when it came to inspecting each and every one of Sven’s belongings. It made the metal singer slightly nervous, and he was about so interfere when Gael approached the turned downwards portrait on his night stand, but the smaller man skipped over it as if it didn’t even exist in the first place.  
Sven felt numb.

When Gael finally settled down on a cushion at the small table in the corner of the room, Sven grabbed two cans of beer from his fridge and brought them over, sitting in turn.

  
“Ooh, nice!” Gael cheered, accepting his can with a brilliant grin.

  
The cracks of the cans being open filled the air, and they each sipped comfortably.

  
Gael was the first to set his down with a contented sigh.   
“I never got around to ask you how old you are.” he wondered aloud, tracing the rim of his can with his finger.

  
Sven chuckled quietly and shook his head.   
“How old do you think I am?” he asked, legitimately curious.

  
Gael pondered for a minute. Sven had a certain weariness about him that screamed he’d been through hell and back, but the redhead couldn’t ignore the air of innocence he gave off whenever he shared his worries with him.

  
“I think you’re twenty four.” Gael announced, nodding decisively.

  
“And I think you’re no fun,” Sven grumbled in response, disgruntled that Gael had hit the spot so easily, taking a swig of his beer.

  
“It’s your turn to guess then,” Gael said, crossing his arms with a smile. 

  
Now Sven was considering what he knew, taking another mouthful of cold beer. He scanned over Gael’s built frame. He was very fit, but that gave him absolutely no indication of his possible age; in fact he thought it probably helped confuse him. Instead, he searched his features, smooth and practically peppy. He couldn’t be any older than he was, given his sprightly youthful antics and impulsiveness, he decided.

  
“Uh. Twenty three?” he tried, raising a brow.

  
Gael laughed openly, waving a hand in dismissal.

  
“I’m flattered.” he leaned forward on the table, a devilish smile splayed on his lips. “But I’m twenty eight.”

  
Sven’s jaw practically dropped in disbelief. “There’s no way. You’re lying. You’re a sore loser aren’t you? I refuse to believe it unless I get proof. Proof damn it!”

  
Gael shrugged and reached into his jacket’s pocket on the floor next to him, fishing out his wallet and handing Sven his ID.

  
“1st of April, 1989.” Sven deadpanned, incredulous.

  
“That’s right,” Gael declared, falsely petulant. “respect your elders.”

  
Sven snorted, throwing the ID card back to Gael ninja-style. “Damn straight I will, grandpa. Maybe I should’ve bought prune juice instead of beer after all.” Gael snickered.   
A thoughtful silence settled as they both finished their can.

  
“Damn, twenty eight. So you’ve been swimming for a long-ass time, huh?” Sven asked, setting his can on the corner of the table, to be forgotten until it went to the trash.

  
“Yeah. I’ve always been aiming for the Olympics, and I wasn’t too far off but then I got… well the whole hospital thing happened,” Gael caught himself on time.

  
Sven nodded solemnly. “I don’t wanna bum you out. Anyway, do you do other things besides swimming?”

  
“Well.” Gael rubbed his arm. “Yeah. I’m a part-time sellout.” He grinned widely.

  
“What do you mean by that?”

  
“I model for big brands. Sometimes sports related, sometimes just shit clothes. It’s easy money, and I get free stuff.” He shrugged.

  
Sven wasn’t entirely surprised. Gael was good looking after all, and it was certain his physique was a solid plus.   
“I’m guessing the clothing industry goes crazy for freckled rarities,” Sven mused.

  
“You’re not far off the truth. Whatever can get people’s attention, they jump on. It’s rare even for redheaded people to be freckled all over.” Gael shrugged.

  
“What do you mean all over?” Sven asked, having a hard time imagining a freckled stomach. “I thought there were areas more likely to be…” he gestured with his hands, struggling to put words on his thoughts.

  
Gael waved his hand dismissively. “I know what you mean, and you’re right,” he lifted his shirt up over his belly button. “See, here it’s spotless, but here,” he let go of the hem and stretched the collar of his shirt to show his collarbone, dotted with tiny speckles. “they extend all the way over, which apparently is to my advantage. I never really asked the specifics, it’s really not my thing. I don’t mind it, but I wouldn’t live off it.” Gael stated simply, releasing his collar.

  
Sven smiled, entertained. “You’re like a rare bird. I wonder if I can sell you somewhere and make tons of money.” he teased.

  
Gael flexed his arm, his bicep bulging under his skin. “Come and get me, bro.”

  
“Huh. I think I’m gonna reconsider,” Sven laughed, getting up and getting another can from the fridge. “Fancy another drink?” he asked, peering over the fridge door.   
“Hell yeah.”

 

 


	9. Leave it to him

Over the following month, Gael and Sven’s gatherings at his place became a regular occurrence.

  
Sometimes Sven would have a harder time at work because of light hangovers, but he valued his time with the redhead enough to bear with it. It helped him put things into perspective, he realised, Gael always seeming to find a way to calm him down and make him face problems with a cold head.

  
In turn, Gael learned to juggle with his double life more efficiently, despite Amaryllis telling him he should just come out with the truth already. He knew she was right, but he never seemed to find the right time to tell his long-haired friend. He might also be avoiding the subject because it was more comfortable to be carefree and feel normal again.

 

“Earth to Gael,” Amaryllis called, pouting from the top of her bed, her legs crossed around a large bag of treats. “I asked you when you’re gonna bring Sven here again, I wanna bother him. He’s too funny when he’s flustered.”

  
“I would disagree with you and tell you how childish you’re being,” he sighed, “but you have a strong point. Want me to text him?”

  
“Yeah. Text him right the fuck now. And tell him to bring something fun, and food too. You’re boring today.” She huffed, digging around in the bag for a candy of her liking.

  
Gael hummed in response, typing off a quick text to Sven. His shift would be over in mere minutes, so there was the possibility he’d come by to see Ama and Mrs Bischel.

Once he was done, he threw his phone next to Ama on the bed.

  
A pseudo silence filled the room, Amaryllis’ loud chewing the only sound disturbing the hospital’s quiet ambiance.

  
“Hey, it’s Halloween soon.” Gael spoke quietly. Amaryllis looked up from her bag, meeting his gaze curiously, her eyes inviting him to continue. “I’m getting you out of here,” there was no turning back, “for the night of the 31st.” He leaned backwards on the armchair, letting his head fall on the headrest.

  
There was a shuffling sound, and he jolted when a vice-like chokehold entrapped his throat, his hands flying up automatically only to meet with a lot of long dyed hair and skinny arms.

  
“Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” Ama practically screamed into his neck.

  
“Agh… We’re not going anywhere if you kill me…”

  
“Right, right.” she conceded, opting to sit sideways across Gael’s legs. “This isn’t weird, is it?”

  
Gael lifted a brow, pointing a finger at himself. “Gay, remember?” He said, smirking amusedly.

  
She hummed teasingly, patting his shoulder. “You haven’t proven that yet. I’ll believe it when I see it, it’s science.”

  
“That’s bullshit, and you’re a pervert.” He deadpanned.

  
Amaryllis rolled her eyes, getting up to get Gael’s phone when it rang.

  
“Oh he says he’s coming,” she said, grinning. “We’re taking him out on Halloween, right? Can I dress him like a slutty cat, can I? _Can I?_ “ she jumped up and down excitedly.

  
Gael snorted, an image forming in his head despite himself. “Do whatever you want, who am I to refuse. I’m not protecting you when he chokes you to death though.”

 

The time until Sven’s arrival was spent mostly with Amaryllis making up plans for her night out, Gael listening with a complacent smile on his face. Then Sven entered the room, and the teen immediately took to bullying him instead when he dumped some diet treats and books on her bed. Minutes only after his entrance, his hair had already been braided and de-braided four times.

  
Sven sat on the edge of Amaryllis’ bed and she was behind him on her knees, her hands treading through his hair while she hummed. His tattooed arms rested on his knees, his fingers weaved together and his eyes downcast. He looked spent.

  
“Hey…” Gael called softly, and Sven’s eyes met his. “I’m taking Ama out for Halloween,” he announced with a lopsided smile, one that spoke a thousand words to Sven’s deepest dismay.

The taller man groaned.

“You people… you’re gonna land in prison sometime.”

“Yeah, but it’ll probably be _fun_.” Amaryllis punctuated with a tug on her latest braid.

Gael hummed, earning a look from Sven that pointedly screamed _don’t agree with her!_

 

Then there was a short silence, broken when Sven sighed and straightened up slightly.

  
“I can’t let you jerks run around unattended…” he grumbled, and both redheads shared a victorious grin.

 

O

 

On a chilly Sunday morning; the very moment she stepped onto the station platform, she’d spotted Sven.

  
The big dork was standing against a busy newsstand, looking lethargic and ready to be sucked into the huge red scarf that covered him up to his nose. He looked thin and pale, his long fingers laced on his stomach a stark contrast against his black coat.

She walked up to him, unconcerned, and coughed lightly. At that, he jumped.

“Micha!” he exclaimed, moving to hug her. She let him, and hugged back, patting her hand against a fibrous shoulder.

She laughed against his wool-covered neck, getting a face full of his long hair, smelling of cypress as it always had.

“How was the trip?” he asked, prying her small suitcase from her hands.

“Exhausting. I hate train rides. Are we far from your place?”

Sven grinned, she winced.

“Yeah, basically on the opposite side.” He snickered at her drawn-out groan. “But I got us a cab.” He added magnanimously. Several strangers turned to cast wondering glances at her loud “hallelujah”.

 

The ride to his place was busy with chatter, since he had to update her on the latest in his life. He told her about Mrs Bischel and the choice he had, about Gael and how he’d lifted his spirits on the roof, and even about quirky and ever-so-hungry Amaryllis. He was only done once they’d shoved Micha’s suitcase in a corner, and she was left pondering in the morning silence while Sven got busy around his tiny kitchen corner, fixing her a cup of instant coffee that smelled like late nights and juvenile stress.

She wondered about those people from the hospital, and decided after the fuming cup was placed in front of her that she had to meet them for sure.

Sven looked none the wiser, smiling widely at her just like she remembered him always doing.

“I’m so happy you decided to impose your presence here.” he said, genuine. She shot him a look.

“You’ve always been so adorable.” She mumbled, tracing the rim of her cup with her index finger. There was a pause. “How have you been… Nightmare-wise lately?” She asked hesitantly.

“Ahh, well… let’s say the past catches up around this time of year. Anyway. You’ve endured my rambling. Tell me what’s up with you, because last I know is you were living with your mom trying to get her to let you leave past 10 pm.” He said, propping his elbow on the small table and resting his head on his hand. God, he didn’t look a day older than when she’d last seen him.

“Well. That’s bound to happen in any artist’s life isn’t it. After we all split up — what was that, seven years ago? Jesus — I stayed with mom for almost a year before I found a shitty job as a janitor in a hospital and… ugh don’t laugh at me, you’ve not always been what you are now. Anyway I worked there and at the same time I was posting a lot of my art online, and I got noticed by a guy who writes children’s books. I’ve been working with him ever since, and honestly it’s not half bad. After that I started getting noticed even more because the dude is kinda famous apparently, and I got to design stuff from toys all the way to clothes for both children and adults.” She paused, and her expression sobered up.

“I guess I owe you an explanation though, as to why I became so unreachable.” She sighed, and Sven straightened up. Just looking at his concerned expression, she felt the guilt of every ignored call, unanswered email, and one-way text crash down on her all over again.

“I had a very jealous boyfriend, and I was stupid. It lasted up until last year, and then I took time for myself to recover. It was not easy, but I know it doesn’t excuse my behaviour.” She shook her head, hands tightening around the cup. It was old, she remembered seeing it in Sven’s tiny dorm kitchen cupboard many times. Her chest constricted.

She watched warily as Sven flattened his hands against the table, worrying his bottom lip.

“Well. I can’t say I’m happy with the news,” he said softly, “and I would have loved for you to share your troubles with me. That’s kind of what friends are for. And for slapping you back to Earth when you’re being unreasonable.” He exhaled through his nose measuredly. “However. Some lessons are better learnt alone, and I guess this one did you right, since you’re here. I just hope you don’t have any reservations about what you did. I don’t know the whole story, but don’t end up blaming yourself.”

She nodded and cast her eyes down; finding that seven years later, she still was unable to hold his gaze.

 

O

 

“Hey Amaryllis, check it out.”

The teen looked up at Gael, who had just re-entered her room after excusing himself twenty minutes ago. The redhead had gotten changed and was wearing a khaki jacket, its sleeved hiked up to his elbows, the colour well accompanied by the salmon sweatshirt underneath, and his faded jeans.

“First of all, damn you look fashion today. What’s the occasion?” She said, her eyes going back to her crosswords puzzle.

“You’re way too sharp. Sven’s coming here with a friend of his, saying he wants to introduce her to us. Gotta make a good impression. Now will you _please_ take a look?”

She set the magazine and pen on her nightstand and turned to sit sideways on the bed, her legs dangling at the edge.

She hadn’t noticed the bouquet Gael was carrying, a nice arrangement of red carnations, a few spotted orchids, chrysanthemums and large narcissus, enhanced by lush green leaves that glinted beautifully.

“Wow. Where’d you pick that?” she asked, genuinely impressed.

“I found a florist a few blocks further.” He answered, stepping closer to hand it to her. She smelled the flowers, enthused.

“Whoever the florist was, they know their stuff. The composition looks awesome.”

At that, Gael laughed lightly. “Ah, actually she let me compose it by myself.”

There was a moment of silence. Amaryllis stared blankly at the flowers, and Gael could practically hear the gears in her head spinning.

“I tried to think of something that would make you any gayer right now, but I have to concede. Good job, you’ve officially convinced me, consider yourself labeled Gay As Fuck.

Gael paid no attention to her teasing.

“We’re gonna head to Mrs Bischel’s room if that’s okay with you, that way Sven knows where to find us,” he said, taking the bouquet back from Amaryllis when she handed it to him.

“Sure. I’m ready. But can you help me walk there? It really hurts today.”

Gael nodded wordlessly, securing an arm around her waist while she clung to his vest. Together, they walked to Mrs Bischel’s room.

 

It was about forty minutes later that Sven showed up. He brought in tow a young woman who he introduced as Micha. She had dark black hair cut short, surrounding a beautiful rounded tan face. Her eyes were almond-shaped and her irises as dark as her hair, and she had a constant smile hanging loose on her full lips. Though shorter than Gael, she still had a commanding presence, and the redhead knew he would like her instantly.

Amaryllis too seemed to warm up to the newcomer easily, forgoing all her usual teasing and instead asking curious questions, drinking up the words that fell from Micha’s mouth.

Sven looked at a loss, and Gael patted him on the back. Then he saw the flowers at Mrs Bischel’s bedside table, and seemed even more at a loss.

O

After they’d all spent a lively time in the small brightly-lit room, Gael took Amaryllis back to her room after she said she said she was sleepy. She’d taken painkillers that morning and it hadn’t failed to gradually make her drowsier and drowsier.

Micha and Sven were waiting outside for the redhead to come with them, looking forward to have a warm beverage somewhere. Sven failed to notice how fidgety Micha seemed to be until she broke the silence that hung between them.

“You never told me the dude was gonna be that hot.” She nearly hissed, hands shoved deep in her pockets. Sven looked taken aback.

“Gael? Uh, sorry. Never knew that was a thing I was obligated to do,” he said lightly, the hint of a grin tugging at his lips.

“You asshole. I feel like my face is on fire when he talks to me. Did I look red? Be honest.” She now really hissed.

Sven shook his head with a laugh.

“Damn. I haven’t seen you like this in years. I need to get you two some alone time. He’s been smiling at you a lot too, you know.” Sven lied. Actually Gael had looked lost in his thoughts and hadn’t said much at all. Maybe spending time with a cute girl would lift his spirits. 

“You would do that?!” She exclaimed, jumping slightly on the spot.

“Yeah, of course. He’s two years older than you though.” Sven winked at her, and she lightly punched his shoulder, annoyed to see he remembered her habit of preying on slightly younger men.

“People and things change, Sven. And he looks younger than your washed-out ass.” She scoffed.

“Okay, ouch.” But he was still smiling. “Leave it to me. I’ll fix you a date riiiiight now.” He whispered with a wolfish grin, just as Gael came out the main door.

Micha was left with an owlish look on her face, hands raised, while Sven strode towards the shorter man.

“Gael, I’m sorry. I have to ask you a favour.” He said in a low voice, putting on his best act. “I just got a call from Mike — remember? One of the guys from my band — and he wants me to babysit his kids for a bit. I don’t want to leave Micha locked up at home when she just got here, and it’ll only be a few hours, but could you look after her? If it’s not too much of a bother.”

Sven looked at the redhead expectantly. Watched as hazel eyes went back and forth between him and the not-so-subtly panicking girl behind him. It wasn’t long before he offered a bright smile.

“Sure!” He exclaimed, patting Sven’s shoulder. “Leave it to me,” he said, unaware he was ironically mimicking Sven’s earlier words.

“Thanks. I’ll make it up to you.” Sven smiled, and promptly left with a wave of his hand to the both of them.

Gael stepped closer to the young woman, smiling, eyes still on Sven's fast shrinking figure. 

“Guess you’re in my care now,” he said with a shrug. 

She gulped.

 


	10. Mission Impossible

The sounds of their steps crunching in the snow seemed deafening to her ears.

Sven had been right, she hadn’t felt like that since eons ago. But there was just something about Gael, the ease in his step and the slight crook in his smile, maybe the crinkle at the corner of his eyes or his unabashed laugh… It was ludicrous, the rational part of her knew that much, she’d just known the guy. But sometimes, first impressions were key, and from what Sven told her about him he’d been a great guy from the start, helping a stranger out on a freezing rooftop for the heck of it.

Speaking of freezing, his light hooded jacket seemed more suited for summers, though she would not complain at how nicely it hugged his surprising figure, and she silently tended to fall behind his step to just stare. This was great for her inspiration too, after all. She’d never seen red so vivid clash against surroundings so bleak.

She listened when Gael talked more to himself than to her, mumbling over which places were open on Sunday mornings. His voice was soothing, with a peppy edge to it, and she still mulled over just how this man was older than Sven. Sven who just threw her on a practically blind date. And she was the only one to know it was a date.

She was oblivious to the creaking of a door opening, but not to the hand gently guiding her inside, in the middle of her back. She rushed in, maybe a little too fast, like the blood to her face.

Gael picked a table for two on the far end of the warmly lit place, wedged between a wooden wall covered in shelves and potted plants and the glass façade, providing whitish daylight with dreamlike quality.

She sat idly, fingers fidgeting. Gael smiled, she looked down.

“Did you come from far away?” He spoke softly, as though not to startle her. She nodded, grateful he was the one to initiate a conversation.

“From Berlin, actually. It was a long trip.” She laughed. “At this point I’m just grateful Sven didn’t make me walk to his place.” At that, she rolled her eyes. Gael seemed intrigued.

“Why would he?” He kept eye contact with her even as a waitress delivered them the menus. He did spare the young woman a word of thanks.

“Well… You’ve hung out with him, you know how he is… right?” She hesitantly asked. It seemed the redhead didn’t relate, hazel eyes curiously searching her face. He seemed to be measuring his words.

“Thus far Sven has been nothing but a reliable friend to me, I haven’t been shown any signs of, uh… facetiousness,” she giggled at the innocently nefarious undertone of his word choice, relaxing slightly at the casual dismissive wave of his hand.

“He’s probably just trying not to scare you away,” Micha revealed with an air of confidence, “he used to be a real piece of work back then.”

“It hasn’t been made really clear to me how long you’ve known each other for, exactly,” Gael said with an apologetic shrug oh his left shoulder, his right one leaned against the glass wall.

The waitress came back and they exchanged a look, Micha’s saying _it’s a long story I’ll tell you in a minute_. They both ordered something to eat and drink, their stomach ready for lunch at the approximation of midday.

The waitress smiled and left with their order, and Micha leaned forward on the table. She was ready for storytelling.

“I met Sven when I was 14, he got transferred to my school in England.” She started. Gael’s lips made an ”o”, and she knew she’d just revealed the hidden origin of Sven’s snobby accent. “He was a brat, high and mighty from the top of his twelve years, and put us all to shame.” She let that sink in.

Effectively, Gael pushed off the wall and leaned forward too, brows furrowed.

“He was two years ahead of normal tuition?”

“Only because they wouldn’t allow him to get even further ahead. You know, he tries his best to look like a thug, but he’s still an idiot genius underneath.” She giggled, pleased to see Gael’s amused expression. “We graduated at 18, he was only 16. But he was set for his course, shot like a bullet straight to his goals. He applied for music school and from what I know, breezed through it in 3 years.” She paused. “From the Royal Academy of Music.”

“Holy fuck,” Gael said quietly, letting it sink in.

“What’s more, he had to barrel through it supporting himself, and for the year we still maintained close contact I’ve seen him go through some questionable roommates. I think one was hooked on heroin.” She shook her head.

“You were in love with him,” Gael said, blunt as a butcher’s knife, the blow resounding in her mind like the crude strike of a guillotine, hitting too close to home, too soon, too much.

She didn’t see the waitress set down their order between them, not the patient look of understanding on Gael’s face, for once making him truly look his age.

She rent herself back to reality forcefully, like one who would force themselves to breathe through drowning and burning lungs, and nodded guiltily.

“I was. For a long time. He never knew, or if he did, I never told him. I knew it wasn’t my calling, for some reason, and he wouldn’t settle down for a thing in this world. He always was like a shooting star, if we got too close he’d burn us, so eventually we just all learnt to let go.” She said, a melancholic mist hauled over her dark eyes. “He still feels the same, but… different. I still can’t make sense of it. But still, just moments ago, still so impulsive, setting me on a d… Uh.” She stopped, wide-eyed.

“A date,” Gael completed her phrase, arms crossed lightly over his chest, inviting her to continue with a slight nod. He looked calm, poised, as if he’d known all along. A little too bright, akin to a star. She felt like laughing and crying, cursing her poetic nature. Age never mattered to her before, but with age came experience, and with experience came that _something_  behind Gael’s eyes, unattainable but by oneself yet so appealing.

“Guess it didn’t get past you,” she laughed humourlessly, fingers drumming against the table.

“But it did past you,” Gael said, voice quiet and intimate, gliding over her senses like a coat of amber-like honey. Her cheeks flared red, her nostrils widened with her sharp inhale.

“Wh, what did?” She asked, voice trembling.

“That I happen to be gay.” He delivered the finishing blow, eyes still dead set on hers, unwavering, cruelly truthful.

A silence fleeted between them, steam from their coffees rising voluptuously, leisurely, much unlike Micha’s heart dropping to an invisible void below.

“Oh.” She deadpanned, still somewhat stunned. He looked apologetic once more, and she at first didn’t know how to react.

“I mean.” She continued, fumbling through muddled thoughts. “Listen, we just met each other. It’s not like I was… well… Ugh,” she groaned, hating her inability to put the right words to stem the situation.

“From what we’ve just talked, I think you’re a precious friend to Sven, and an amazing person overall,” Gael interrupted gently, picking up his cup and taking a sip. “I don’t mind the circumstances. Talking to you is great, you have a very particular outlook on things. I think I’d be honoured to be able to call myself your friend, too.”

And just like that, like a puppet weaved between its master’s fingers, or a blank sheet of paper between her very hands, Gael shifted the situation, the whole meaning of it and what it entailed, tinting its horizon with a new dawn instead of dusk. How absurd, she thought, to think of obscuring the sun in its own sky.

“You got it. That would be killer.” She said, letting her head drop with a soft clatter, holding her fist balled up blindly. Gael bumped it with a chuckle.

 

* * *

 

When he received the text from Micha telling him where they were, he set out without further ado, grateful to be relieved from his idle bench duty.

However when he approached the place they were at, and saw them through the glass, hunched over the table and speaking so close, eyes crinkled at the corners by wide smiles and touches at their forearms, he felt his chest tighten ever so slightly. He didn’t dwell on it, or how much those two looked like a couple, and instead marched on through the door as if it were his sole objective.

Gael spotted him first and smiled brightly, and he smiled back with a constricted throat. Micha then turned to him as he walked to their table and dragged a chair for himself, blinking lazily at him.

“Oh hey.” She giggled, and Gael smiled. He was so conscious of how heavier the redhead’s gaze had gotten since that morning.

“Hey again guys.” He sighed, unceremoniously picking up an abandoned grilled sandwich and biting through it hungrily. “Sorry again I had to bolt like that.”

“No problem,” Gael said, with a sidelong look at Micha. She giggled. Sven was uncomfortable.

They stayed like that for a while, then Micha started to talk about her train trip again and how expensive the food cart was, then the waitress came with the receipt and Gael insisted to pay for the whole thing. Sven watched him gallantly smile to the waitress, almost as if it was natural, and wondered what it took to pull such natural nonchalance off.

His eyes then drifted to Micha, who looked content, sated, smiling and ever so secretive, like she’d just stolen the cookie and the cookie jar too.

They all walked out after the waitress thanked them for coming and probably more for the tip, into the fresh bite of the early afternoon air.

Gael excused himself, saying he would check up on Amaryllis and then go to the pool for an early practice, leaving Micha and Sven in a trail of stardust.

 

“So?” Sven said airily, eyes vaguely looking in the direction Gael had just disappeared in.

“So…” Micha trailed, and Sven knew her door would remain sealed to the secrets she’d eaten. “He’ll make a great friend.” At that, she slapped him on the back, making his body shake with a tremor.

“No need to be violent if he rejected you,” he said sardonically, casting her a glare that reminded her of a pissed kitten.

“There’s always a need to be violent towards you,” she said lightly, trudging through the snow towards his place. “Now let’s go, I gotta steal your wifi to see the event’s updates.”

 

* * *

 

 

The night of the 31st, Sven was unceremoniously chewing on his lip, waiting wedged between two small bushy trees. He was thirsty and his leg hurt from being poked by a branch, but he still waited.

  
Then, a sound.

He looked up at the window, seeing Gael directing him a thumbs up. He braced himself.

First came out skinny legs clad in dark jeans, then a torso covered with a green parka, then a head of dyed red hair. Amaryllis clung to the sheet strongly, an exhilarated look on her face. Sven looked, wide-eyed, arms wide too, as Gael lowered the stretched out sheet posing as rope gently, muscles tense under his skin, favoured by his discarded jacket on the floor next to him. His expression was one of extreme focus, knowing the risk the whole operation entailed.

As soon as Amaryllis’s waist was in his reach he wrapped his arms around it, her shaky hands coming to rest on his shoulders. Gael immediately disappeared, yanking the sheet up, closing the window.

Sven set the teen down, alert, as she clung to his coat.

Gael came out of the hospital with his hands in his pockets, jacket thrown over his shoulder. He didn’t come towards them, and Sven led Amaryllis to met with him at the gates.

“That. Was. AWESOME!” The teen exclaimed happily, as she wrapped her arms around Gael’s neck for him to carry her horsie-style.

The redhead chuckled, Sven crossed his arms.

“If I get in trouble for helping you both _monsters_ , I swear…” but his smile escaped neither of the two others.

“Halloween, here we come!” Amaryllis all but shouted, hands excitedly drumming against Gael’s chest.

“You’ll catch a cold,” Sven said, and it became sort of a mantra every time Gael wore no sleeves.

“Idiots don’t catch colds,” Gael replied whimsically, a jovial smile on his face. “At what time did Micha’s thing end?”

“Around midnight she said. I’ll send her our location once we get there.”

Without further discussion, they were on their way.

 

Sven leads them to a lively place, at a nameless street corner, on what they wish would be a nameless night. Amaryllis wore makeup, looking like a blooming flower, delicate only in appearance, her waist sturdily supported by Gael’s still bare arm when they entered the place and elbow-fought their way to a secluded table. There was a small stage in the far corner of the room, set up with a mic and a small dingy piano in the back.

“Halloween, halloween, hallow-ee-ee-een!” Amaryllis chanted happily, clapping her hands together in tune to her made-up song.

“You guys hungry?” Gael asked, grinning.

“God, yes,” Sven mumbled, slouching back in his chair. He felt like his nerves had just melted.

“Yeah boy! Give me some Halloween themed dinner already!” Amaryllis almost shouted, and a waiter effectively came their way, dropping menus on the table.

“Whenever you guys are ready, gimme a sign,” the guy said, leaving with a wink. He looked to be in his early thirties and had slicked back, very blond hair.

Gael decided he’d just get whatever Amaryllis did, up for a fun time, while Sven thought he’d indulge in his craving for meat. Before any of them could flag down the waiter again, Gael noisily slammed his elbows onto the table, devious grin askew.

“Now real talk, what are we drinking.”

“Nothing for her.” Sven deadpanned, letting the menu fall back to the table with a flat papery bang.

“Nothing for her?” Amaryllis whined, jutting out her lower lip and making her best puppy eyes.

“Nothing for her.” Gael nodded, but the devilish grin only intensified. Sven doubted any of them would live to see the sun rise.

Amaryllis grumbled for them to just get her something to eat already, so they finally called the waiter and ordered the food, two pints and a fresh juice.

“Guys,” Amaryllis then said, patting their arms on either side of her. “Look, it’s starting! Hell yeah for karaoke!”

And indeed it was, some lights turning off to favour a more intimate ambiance as some woman got up on the stage, smiling nervously but looking excited.  
A song started, and she sang, off-key at first, but slowly adjusted to the tune and forgot her nervousness.

“Damn,” Gael said after the atmosphere quieted down, “that looks like fun. You don’t wanna do it, Ama?” He grinned.

“Hell no. Like hell I’d stay standing for so long.” She flat out refused. Gael turned his head to Sven, leaning back to let the waiter place their order on the table.

“How about you, band boy?” He said with a wink.

Sven groaned. “My plate is full, my stomach empty.” He answered moodily, already planting his fork in his steak with unnecessary aggression.

Gael laughed. Amaryllis and he had gotten each a small pumpkin on their plate, which was filled with meat, veggies and cheddar cheese with a side of ghost shaped fries.

Amaryllis went wild about how cool the face carved into the pumpkin looked, babbling excitedly as she dipped a ghost fry in BBQ sauce.

Behind Sven’s exasperated look, was one of fondness.

 

After their plates were emptied and cleared, and the guys' third pint, Amaryllis was starting to get restless.

“Guys, you have to do it. For me. One of you get his ass off his chair _now_.” She declared, arms crossed over her chest.

“I don’t care, I’m not singing,” Sven said, slurring his words slightly as he took another sip of his beer.

“Come on. I’m sure you’ve had bigger audiences than this,” Gael laughed.

“Yeah, but I’m still not going,” he huffed, and Gael couldn’t contain a snort at his childish pouting.

“Okay.” Gael said, before his chair scraped against the floor.

Amaryllis squealed excitedly, while Sven blinked trying to process what was happening. He’d anticipated some more protesting against his refusal, and maybe if he’d finally felt like it he would’ve gotten up on stage to please two enthused redheads.

Instead, it was Gael’s back that disappeared into the crowd, only to reappear a moment later, charismatic as always, getting the crowd excited again. Amaryllis said something, but he didn’t hear it.

Almost as soon as the instrumental kicked up, Gael was already singing.  
He strained to hear the lyrics.

/One bad night I’ll hold the glass until the glass can hold me down/  
/And one bad night I’ll spill and spill until my feet begin to drown/  
/One bad night I’ll hear you calling me to help you not pass out/

He didn’t get to hear much of the rest, the rowdy crowd whistling and acclaiming, with reason. Up until now, Gael had been the best performer on stage, equally in confident presence and singing quality. It was pleasant, though a little dizzying.

/One dumb night I’ll make a point to take an old verboten route/  
/And one dumb night I’ll take you out, to the bar we've both blacked out/  
/One dumb night two bad decisions don’t divide to cancel out/

Amaryllis cheered as soon as the song finished echoing, hooting happily as Gael tried to make his way back to the table. He was intercepted by a group of bachelorettes trying to offer him a drink, both Amaryllis and Sven leaning forward on the table suddenly to watch the situation unfurl, though Sven more clumsily than the teen.

“Y’think he’s gunna?” Sven whispered, knocking his shoulder against Amaryllis’.

“Hell no,” she said, categoric, sipping on Gael’s pint.

“The brunette one’s hot though,” he said, leaning his head on his hand against the table.

“Then go get her yourself dumbass,” Ama huffed as she lightly slapped his shoulder. He groaned in response, unwilling to start another mock fight, his head filled with lyrics and haunting instrumentals. He tapped the song’s rhythm unconsciously against the table, and wondered how Amaryllis had known Gael would refuse an entire group of drunk women throwing themselves at him when he saw him make his way back to the table, shirt askew.

 

* * *

 

Micha trudged her way to the table at the far corner of the room, greeted by the sight of a riled up Sven gesturing animatedly at a sheepish Gael, while Amaryllis sipped on two forgotten beers.

She climbed over Sven’s legs, dropping on the banquette next to Amaryllis.

“Fill me in,” she said, while Gael offered a smile in her direction and Sven tried to recompose himself.

“Gael sung, Sven’s upset he never said he knew how to sing, and is being a sad drunk about it.” Amaryllis stated, watching as Micha called for another drink from the bartender. “It’s been going on for a while now, and he’s trying to get Gael to sing again.” The teen shrugged, looking entertained.

“Nooot surprised,” Micha said in a singsong voice. “Sven’s a total lightweight.”

“No I’m not.” Sven laughed, waving a hand in dismissal. He seemed in an incredibly good mood.

“Okay, then go sing.” Micha challenged, arms crossed. “I haven’t heard you in a while. I’ll take it as my welcome gift.”

She earned herself a look of admiration from both redheads.

Sven huffed.

“Fine! But you won’t get any more favours from me after this one.” Sven said, getting up with an air of determination. The small group cheered.

As the musician got lost in the crowd on his way towards the dude who managed the instrumentals, Micha laughed heartily, a fresh new beer set in front of her.

“You guys better be ready.” She said, looking like the cat who ate the canary. "Because it's gonna be _something_."

  
The lights dimmed once again.


	11. Good Day

He wobbled on his feet, and making his way through the crowd proved to be harder of a task than he though it would.  
He tried to elbow his way through — only to lose his way, and despite how tall he was he couldn’t for the life of him tell where he was supposed to be going when nothing would stay still.

  
He looked around groggily, and decided to lean against the bar for a little moment.

  
He was considering to buy a water when a hand came to rest on his elbow.

  
“Sven?” A familiar feminine voice called close to his ear. He turned his head to see that one pretty nurse who kept the reception and had helped him with his bruised cheek. He couldn’t for the life of him remember her name, still.

  
She looked slightly flushed, her usually neat bun replaced by a loose braid flowing like gold on her shoulder. Her lips were tinted a rosy pink, fresh, enticing, her pale blue eyes underlined by thick mascara. He thought he saw a silver glint on her eyelids.

  
She sidled even closer, her curves hugged tightly by a black lace dress. His brows raised on their own accord.

“Your friend’s singing was awesome,” she laughed, talking loud over the even louder music. “My girl friends almost assaulted him earlier.”

“Oh. Oh!” He responded, his blurred mind finally associating her to the group of women trying to seduce Gael earlier. The redhead needed glasses, stat.

  
They enjoyed the atmosphere standing by each other, people dancing and laughing loudly, toasting to various occasions, some of them wearing halloween costumes that went from hilarious to downright inappropriate.

  
A slow song came on, and her eyes fluttered over to his.

  
_To hell with it_ , he thought, and, smiling, signalled to the couples dancing behind them.

  
She smiled brightly, following him, the alcohol in her system helping her wrap her arms around his neck. He placed his hands on her hips, smelling flowers and powder. It was heady, drawing him in slowly, surely.

  
She rested her cheek on his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 

“What I’m saying is,” Amaryllis said loudly, “under what circumstances would you do it?”

“I fully support that question,” Micha stated, drinking from her pint solemnly.

“I don’t know dude,” Gael said, slightly annoyed, gesturing widely with the hand that wasn’t holding his elbow. “You can’t just…”

The girls exchanged a look, and Gael rolled his eyes.

“I think only if it was a bet, then I would.” He crossed his arms. “But I would have to care about what I get out of it.”

  
The two other snorted and immediately turned to whisper to each other.

  
Gael sighed, wondering where Sven went all that time, leaving him alone with the two preying women. That’s the precise moment he spotted him in the crowd, a tall woman that looked somewhat familiar pressed up against his chest.

  
“Oiiii, we know what to bet G-boi!” Amaryllis exclaimed with a toothy grin.

He turned back to her, eyes sharp. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Micha said. “We’ll treat you to whatever the hell you want and I’ll take you to go to the next town over, I have to run an errand there before going back to Berlin. All on me.”

It didn’t matter what she would’ve said. He was feeling particularly evil anyway. He extended his hand to her, smile succinct. She shook it.

“It’s a bet.” They said in unison, Amaryllis clapping her hands with mischievous giggles aplenty.

  
Gael swiftly left the table, and that’s when they saw it.

“Wait. Oh fuck.” Micha said.

“Holy DRAMA!” Amaryllis shouted, banging her fists against the table.

They watched with held breaths as Gael inched closer to Sven and the blonde, easily treading past the crowd.

 

* * *

 

He was considering his options. But they were looking pretty grim so far. 

After all, he had a duty towards Amaryllis and he barely knew the woman he was dancing with, but it’d been a very long time since he’d been intimate with someone. She looked interested but not enough to ask much from him afterward, which he valued, since he was definitely not looking to settle down with anyone.

As she slipped her hands from his neck to his chest, looking about to say something, he felt a strong pull on his arm, making him spin around.  
He took a few seconds to catch up with the act, blinking, not expecting to meet such a smouldering gaze upon his recovery. Hazel, burning, ever so piercing.  
So _close_.

  
By the time he realised he’d been pulled down by the collar, Gael was unmistakably _kissing_ him, close-lipped, scorching, and… gone.

 

* * *

 

 

“Gael!” Amaryllis called, supported by Micha.

He was outside, leaning against the wall, looking across the street at nothing in particular.

“Guys, how was I?” He asked, and they failed to notice the dark glint beneath his ever so charming smile.

“That was chee-ee-ky.” Amaryllis gloated, looking rather pleased. Micha wasn’t so thrilled.

“I don’t know… I mean. He _was_ with a woman…” She trailed.

“So what?” Gael shrugged with a clear laugh. “He left us in the dust, hyping us up for a nice song. He deserved it.”

“He might be mad at you after that,” Micha warned, ominously.

“Whatever.” Both redheads said at the same time, smiling at each other.

“I’ve had my fill for tonight”, Gael sighed, stretching his arms, throwing a questioning look Amaryllis’ way. 

“Same. I’m ready to clock out. Got what I wanted.” She said with a firm nod, and Micha transferred her over to Gael when she stretched an arm in his direction.

“I’m gonna take this little … _bundle of joy_ back to the hospital. You enjoy the rest of the night, and tell Sven not to worry about her.” He said, still smiling.

“Uh, sure, be safe on the way back.” Micha said, still a little shaken by his antics.

“Alright. By the way I’m not forgetting about my reward,” he said as he turned his back to her, waving a hand over his shoulder. 

She stared at the two of them as they ambled off in the darkness, wondering.

 

* * *

 

 

The blonde looked wide-eyed as Sven’s mind blanked, his hand over his lips.

“I’m sorry,” she said raising her hands slightly, lips forming a pinkish “o”. “I didn’t realise that, uh…”

He turned around, wide-eyed. “I’m not!” He exclaimed. “I have no idea why he did that. I’m sorry. I’ll be right back, I think.” He forced out, trying to keep the slight shake of anger from his voice. 

 

He looked for Gael, or Amaryllis, but he stumbled across Micha close to the exit first. He grabbed her by the shoulders, wearing an expression she didn’t quite recognise on his face.

“What the hell?!” He almost shouted, shaking her lightly. 

“Eh, calm down dude!” She replied, panicked, holding her hands up peaceably. 

He sighed in exasperation and all but dragged her outside; once again she was exposed to the night air’s cold bite.

“You had something to do with it didn’t you? You and Amaryllis, that brat…” He rambled, and at that she recognised that he was more panicked than mad. 

That was a good thing, she knew how to manage panicked Sven. 

She laughed lightly, patting his shoulder warmly. 

“Come ooon, you’re overreacting. We just made a bet, he went through with it ‘kay? He won some nice spoils at that,” she winked. 

It worked a little, Sven shoving his hands in his pockets and looking more grumpy than mad. 

“I would’ve expected it from Ama, but you… You made me kiss a dude,” he grouched.

She shook her head. “No, I made a dude kiss you. Now let’s head back, it’s been a while since we’ve had a drink, the two of us.”

He mellowed at that, nodding. “True. But I’m not gonna be able to drink a lot more…”

 

* * *

 

 

After an early workout he’d checked up on Amaryllis who was still asleep, leaving a sandwich, a flavoured yogurt and a pack of candy for her to enjoy when she woke up. He thought it was only fair, since she hadn’t gotten to go trick or treating.

Afterwards, he found himself wandering aimlessly around the hospital until his scheduled appointment.

He endured the doctor’s prodding, examining and torturing him too seemingly no avail once again; before having another meeting with Lucy. She rattled on about a call she’d had with big investors, how time was of the essence, and he told her the same thing he always did: there was nothing he could do that would prevent what was to happen anyway.

 

He spent some time sitting on the roof, wondering how she was unable to understand the predicament he was in, and wondering about his career’s future, before it became too much to handle and he headed for Mrs Bischel’s room. 

 

He wasn’t completely surprised to find Amaryllis sitting there, watching TV, munching on the candy he’d bought for her. 

She looked up when he stepped in, smiling brightly. 

“Ayo! Slept well?” She asked happily. “Thanks for the food!”

“No problem,” he answered with a huff, dropping down on the couch on the other side of the bed. “Eh, kinda.”

“What’s wrong?” She turned to face him slightly, though her eyes remained glued to the screen.

  
He let a slight silence go by, chewing on his lower lip nervously. It’d been on his mind ever since he’d done it, but the spur of the moment had pushed him forth, his heartbeat in his ears and fire in his throat. He didn’t know why it had felt like that, and didn’t want to know either. Maybe he shouldn’t have drunk all that beer at all.

  
“I don’t know,” he started uncertainly, but he know Amaryllis wasn’t one to let go so easily. “I shouldn’t have taken up that bet.” 

“Aw come on, don’t feel bad about that. Yes you _may_ have ruined his chances with a hot babe, but it was just a little kiss,” she giggled, ever so carefree. 

She didn’t see him grimacing. 

“No, really. It was stupid, and Micha said he would be mad… I… I just feel bad about it.” He admitted, letting his head drop in his hands.

“Sounds to me like you’re in love, my boy.”

At first, Gael opened his mouth to retaliate. Amaryllis had such silly ideas. Then, his second instinct was to shut his mouth with a click, blinking at the choice of words; after all he never heard her call him “my boy”, much less in that voice and intonation. He thought it was weird, and raised his head to shoot her a questioning glance. She, however, was not paying any attention to him, wide-eyed, her candy bag falling from her lap to the floor. 

He was about to ask her if she was alright, instantly on his feet, but his eyes were caught by two crystal blue orbs blinking slowly at him, peaceable smile upon elegantly wrinkled features.

“GO!” Amaryllis yelled, her hands flying up to the call button on the side of the bed. 

So, Gael ran. 

He ran as fast as he could, uncaring of how his lungs burnt with the effort, breath laboured yet cut up by brilliant laughter. 

He made it to Sven’s place in record time, crashing against the side of the building and mashing the doorbell button restlessly, frantically.

 

Sven opened the door with pursed lips, avoiding Gael’s eyes. He looked grumpy and tired. His shirt was wrinkled and his hair slightly ruffled, and he could use a good shave. 

“Look, I don’t feel like talking right now, so…” Sven grumbled, but Gael shook his head fervently, still trying to catch his breath. 

“Listen,” Gael gasped, and it sounded particularly painful, so Sven looked up in time to see the trickle of blood running all the way down to his chin and his body swaying forward. 

He caught him just in time. 

“What the fuck? Gael?!” He yelled, shaking the smaller man’s shoulder, though he was slumped against his chest heavily. No answer. 

“Fuck,” Sven spat, dragging the unconscious redhead inside his apartment.

  
He sat him up against the wall on his unmade bed, rushing to get a towel from the bathroom and a glass of water from the kitchen.

  
He blotted the blood off of Gael’s face, immediately checking his pulse and breath, cursing himself for not thinking about it earlier, and sighing in relief when both seemed normal.

  
He had to rub against the redhead’s lower lip, the blood persistently clinging to his slightly chapped lips.  _Strange_ , he thought, since they hadn’t felt that way the previous night—

Gael drew in a sudden breath, slumping forward, one hand gripping to Sven’s shirt. 

“The hospital, right now,” he hissed urgently, eyes wide. His nose was still bleeding. 

Sven wiped again, his free hand pulling his cell phone from his pocket. 

“Okay, don’t talk, I’ll call an ambulance,” he said shakily, thinking that something must be really wrong for Gael to ask to be taken there. 

“No!” he hissed again, gripping Sven’s wrist, making him drop the phone on the bed. “ _You_ have to go, right now.” He breathed slowly, taking the towel from Sven’s hand to hold it in place himself. 

Sven shook his head, crossing his arms. He was starting to get annoyed, but before he could voice his feelings Gael interrupted him once again, apologetic.

“Sorry. I kinda ran all the way here and I guess I, ah, fainted from not breathing properly but you have to go right now, because _she_ woke up.” He said with a small smile, squeezing Sven’s wrist slightly.

  
At first the long-haired man thought he was talking about Amaryllis and his brow ticked, but that didn’t make sense if Gael had ran all the way to his place. His chest was starting to bubble with hope, his throat closing up unfamiliarly, but he didn’t want to give himself a false sense of hope. 

“You’re not fucking with me.” Sven deadpanned. 

Gael looked angry for a second, then exasperated, raising his arms. 

“Fucking go!” He yelled, getting up himself and marching towards the door. 

When Sven hastily put a sweater on, grabbed his keys and ran outside, he was already gone. 

He ran anyway, breathless by the time he got to the hospital, but he kept going, jumping up the stairs and rushing towards her room, only to find Amaryllis sitting in the corridor, fingers tapping against the bench she sat on. 

“What’s going on?” he urged between raspy breaths. 

“There you are,” she said, beaming. “They took her away for some tests, so take a seat. It’ll be a while.”

He sat next to her wordlessly, envying her carelessness. He was feeling nervous and it weighed on his chest, Amaryllis’ humming not helping him the slightest. 

“Where’s Gael?” he asked, foot tapping against the ground. 

“I dunno,” she shrugged, examining her nails. 

He grunted.

  
After what felt like an eternity, the doctor he’d spoken to all those months ago made his appearance, telling him that the scans were looking positively great and that she was in stable condition, though too tired to see anyone at the moment after they’d done all that needed to be done.  
He just numbly nodded his head, tried to concentrate on the explanations but only managed to make himself more agitated, having nothing to ground him.

 

* * *

 

 

The next town over, Gael was oblivious to Sven’s distress, walking alongside an excited Micha down the busy streets towards an unfamiliar address. He idly stood by when she went about her business, retrieving a script from a shrivelled old man.

 

Afterwards, they went to get lunch in a quiet cafeteria recommended by the same old man. 

“So, he’s gonna be pretty hyped if she woke up.” She said, chuckling. 

“I guess so,” Gael answered airily, chewing on his straw, drops of orange juice staining the paper covering his plastic tray.

  
_Sounds to me like you’re in love, my boy._

  
He frowned, sighing. Micha didn’t comment.

  
Once again Gael paid for their meal despite Micha’s protests and their bet, and they were off, making a small detour to sightsee before having to go back.

  
They walked down the main street, hands deep in their pockets for different reasons, watching the snow fall from the dark grey sky contemplatively. 

“I’m guessing,” Micha risked, “you don’t wanna talk about what’s bugging you.” 

Gael raised his head to the clouds, exhaling a cloud of condensed air, eyes closing for a brief moment. 

He should talk, he really should. But this was no one else’s burden to bear, and it didn’t matter if it felt like his ribcage felt like it was being torn open. Past is the past, all that jazz. 

His hands balled up into fists despite himself at the sudden memories taking up his brain by storm, and he tried to will them away. However broken promises weren’t so easily denied, and he ended up just reliving the heartbreak despite himself, feelings raw and exposed. 

Micha wasn’t unfamiliar with heartbreak, far from it, so when she witnessed the range of emotions colouring Gael’s strained features she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and sighed. 

Together, they walked back towards the station, footprints etched deep upon forgetful snow.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Sven was up and early, excused from work. He was sleep deprived as ever, jacked up on caffein, nerves in his throat.  
When the nurse came out and nodded, he almost jumped forward, stepping into the room deafened by his own heartbeat.

“It’s been a long time,” she said, smile as energetic as ever, looking like nothing ever happened, sat up supported by the raised bed.

He rushed to her side and hugged her, telling himself that if his eyes did get a little watery, it was okay. 

She laughed and hugged him back, patting his back affectionately. 

He released her and sniffled moodily, brows furrowed in false anger, but a wide smile stretching his lips. 

“It really has been a long time.”


	12. Dawning

Over the next week, after Micha’s departure, everything shifted to an unfamiliar new routine.  
Sven would go see Mrs Bischel as soon as his shift at the café was over, telling her step by step everything that had succeeded while she was unconscious, and she learnt to associate the two young people he told her about with the voices she had heard in her imageless dreams.  
She kept that detail to herself, and Sven was none the wiser.  
Gael on his end, spent more time with Amaryllis when he wasn’t holed up training at the pool, his avoidance towards Sven a secret even to himself.  
Amaryllis kept that knowledge to herself, and Gael was thankful.

At the start, the relief and excitement occupying Sven’s mind allowed him to fall sleep at night with comfortable thoughts, but it wasn’t long before the initial impact on his subconscious wore off and the oily grip of his nightmares returned full force, putting him on edge, twitchy and impatient. 

He grew more and more annoyed by the day when he tried to get a grasp of Gael, only to have him slip through his fingers like a river fish. 

He just didn’t feel right, since last time he’d seen the redhead, blood had dripped from his nose while he limply sat unconscious on his bed.

He was about to go wait for him at the sports complex’s door on a snowy Sunday morning, but he got a call right before he could exit his place.  
He stuck the phone between his ear and his shoulder, grunting as he tried to wrestle his keys out of his jean’s pocket. 

“Hi, Sven,” Mike’s voice came from the receiver. Sven knew that tone. Mike was going to ask him for a favour. 

“What can I help you with,” the long haired man sighed, finally freeing the keys with a jangle. 

A sheepish chuckle came from the other end of the phone. Sven rolled his eyes, muttering a merciless “get to the point already”. 

“Well, y’see, we were planning to make a little lovers’ escapade with Anastasia, since it’s been forever and all…” Mike rambled, and Sven could just imagine him tugging on the collar of his shirt nervously. 

“So you want me to babysit.” Sven deadpanned, kicking his door closed behind him and locking it with a swift turn of his wrist. 

“Eeeehh… yes.” Mike finally admitted. 

Sven rubbed at his temple, leaning against his door. He was really planning on yelling at Gael for leaving him hanging for so long, but the situation couldn’t be helped. He did owe the kids a visit, and long overdue.

“Fine. Be over in twenty.” 

With that he hung up, leaving no room for arguments.

 

About half an hour later, he was sharing a relaxed coffee break with Anastasia and Mike, during which the elegant auburn-haired woman went over the last details. 

“I think you already know that Theo gets a little sullen lately, but considering how much that boy loves you it shouldn’t be anything too painful to deal with. He’s in his room right now,” she supplied, and he glanced over at Julia, who was playing happily in the living room making a big dinosaur toy chase a little guy around. 

“Leave it to me. Just enjoy the mountain cabin.” He said with a wink.

“Leave that to me.” Anastasia winked, and they smiled at each other. 

They both happened to flick their hair at the exact same time, which made Mike snort and choke on his coffee.

 

When they’d finished and Sven insisted to wash the cups, he found himself waving at the distancing car, sniffling slightly in the cold with his hands tucked under his armpits for warmth. Once they were out of sight, he rushed back inside. 

Julia waddled over to him, fidgeting with her fingers. She looked like she wanted to say something, but her lower lip was jutting out, prompting Sven to kneel and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, in the hope of avoiding a tearful outburst. 

Julia was a great kid, she was just a little overly emotional, as all toddlers tended to be. 

“What’s wrong, Juls?” He asked, using his best soothing tone. 

“U, uncle Sv-e-e-en,” she sobbed theatrically. “Why does Theo not play with me anymo-o-ore?” 

He tried to think of an answer to that, but having grown up as an only child left him speechless. She started crying a little louder, prompting him to pick her up and hold her with one arm, her head resting against his shoulder.  
She buried her face in his shirt, leaving it soaked with tears in a matter of seconds. From upstairs, loud music started playing. Sven let out a breath through his nose. 

“Okay. Julia, why don’t we get your drawing gear out? I bet it’s been a long time since you’ve drawn anything right? Why don’t you show me what you can do?” He said enthusiastically, making the little girl bounce slightly in his arms with a smile. She perked up immediately, sniffling and smiling while wiping her reddened button nose. 

“Yeah! You’ll see how good I draw kitties now!” She exclaimed and wiggled, so he put her down. She ran to a cupboard, and he helped her get her stuff out and settle on the living room’s coffee table. She immediately started drawing, tongue stuck out and a focused scrunch in her eyebrows. 

“I’m going to check up on your brother, okay?” Sven said gently, getting up from his crouching position next to her.  
Her face fell slightly, but she nodded slowly. 

“Okay, but you’ll have to draw something for me,” she said with her lower lip jutting out once again. 

Sven nodded and grinned. “Agreed.”

She grinned back and resumed drawing, picking up a different crayon.  
He headed for the stairs and steeled himself, knocking on the sticker-laden door once he got there. 

“C’min,” he heard Theo’s grumpy voice over the loud edgy music only by chance. 

He turned the knob and stepped in, flinching at the noise now even louder. Thankfully, Theo mercifully lowered the volume and sat on the edge of his bed, putting down whatever portable game device that he had — Sven really wasn’t knowledgeable on that field.

“Hey, ‘sup,” Sven asked, glancing around the room.  
It was any little boy’s dream, painted a nice sea blue, the walls peppered with shelves that had many cool car models, some books and some character figures. He also had an impressive poster collection, leaving even less of the wall to be seen than in Sven’s memories, and clothes were strewn about, the desk also a mess of notebooks and various school supplies. They didn’t look like they had been touched recently. 

Theo just watched him with a slight sag in his shoulders, avoiding eye contact. 

“That’s a cool poster,” Sven attempted again, pointing to the only one he recognised. It depicted a phoenix wrapping its fiery wings around the band members, which Sven had met during a concert. That band had to open for them on that night, and had gotten the crowd nicely excited. 

“Thanks,” Theo said, a smile beginning to form. “Their new album’s really cool.” 

Sven pushed off the wall and sauntered to the desk chair, putting all the clothes on the back before taking a seat with a huff. 

“How’s school going?” he grinned. “Ya got a girlfriend yet?” He waggled his brows. 

Theo straightened up almost immediately, mouth opening, then closing, then his entire face got crimson. 

“Ooooh,” Sven hooted encouragedly, leaning forward. 

Theo looked to the side with a pout, crossing his arms and mumbling something. 

“Didn’t hear ya,” Sven said with a sing-song voice, but before he could ask anything else there was the sound of glass breaking downstairs. 

He immediately shot up and scrambled his way down, almost falling in the stairs, to find Julia teary eyed guiltily standing near a broken flowerpot. 

He practically skidded to a stop and knelt in front of her, carefully looked for any injuries. She was completely fine, albeit terrified.  
Sven took a moment to breathe, his heartbeat all over the place. 

“You okay?” he asked the little girl, and she nodded fervently, her eyes filled with un-cried tears. 

“Don’t worry about it, but be more careful, okay? This could’ve really hurt you,” he admonished, lifting her up to sit her on the couch. “Wait for me here, and don’t move until I tell you it’s okay. Got it?” He patted her head. 

“Okay-y-y,” she drawled, rubbing at her eye. “Am sorry uncle Sven,” she grumbled and lowered her head. 

He went to get cleaning supplies, having to look around for a while until he finally found them under the kitchen sink, and came back to gather up the broken glass. 

“We’ll make up some story about it, so you don’t have to worry about your mom and dad, ‘kay?” He offered with a wink. 

She perked up and beamed at him, kicking her legs enthusiastically. 

“Okay! I finished the picture, do you wanna see it?” She set off without waiting for an answer, going back to the coffee table. 

He went to dump the glass in the trash first, and followed her back to the living room.

She proudly presented a picture of a poorly drawn (probably) feline, colourfully bloated yet still somehow cute. 

“It’s adorable, Juls,” he said in all honesty, trailing a hand along the blue skyline. 

“It’s for you! You can keep it!” She said, then skipped to her room happily. 

Sven watched her warily, then collapsed on the couch, picture still in hand. He had to talk to Theo, but he couldn’t leave Julia unsupervised, or else he would probably die of a heart attack or a house fire. 

He mulled over the dilemma for a minute, before settling on making a phone call. 

He dialled Joann’s number on his cell phone, but got directed to the voicemail instead. Thrice. And Joann was the only one who knew how to deal with kids in his circle of friends. Unless…

An idea bloomed in his head, and he immediately dialled another number.

 

* * *

 

 

Gael almost jumped when his phone rang, and he fought with his pocket with a trembling hand, getting a questioning glance from Amaryllis. Only two people knew his number: his dad, and Sven. And his dad wasn’t going to call him, especially not at this time of day. 

He considered ignoring the call, chest going tighter with each ring, but Amaryllis threw a pencil at him in annoyance. 

Finally, he took it. 

“Yeah,” he managed out, already wincing from the chewing up he was about to get for ignoring his friend for so long. 

“Yo,” came the simple greeting from the other end. “You have siblings, right? You any good with kids?” 

Gael just gaped, baffled, and took another pencil to the face. 

“Uh. I can manage?” He offered cluelessly.

“Greaaat. I’ll text you the address. See you in a minute.” 

With that, the call ended. 

Amaryllis stared at him, and he stared back, still holding the phone up to his ear. She threw her arms in the air, brows raised, and he shrugged, just as confused, lowering his arm. 

“Listen, either Sven just had children, or he stole some and needs my help.” He said with a slight wary smirk, and she threw the whole pencil case at him this time. 

“Then go help your lover you big dork,” she exclaimed, almost offended. “And give me back my shit before leaving though.”

He groaned at the _lover_  part, but gathered the stuff she threw and handed it to her before taking his leave, thankfully recognising the address Sven sent him a minute later.  
He decided that in the end he was glad for the easy exit, Amaryllis having been practically insufferable about the whole thing Mrs Bischel had said upon waking up, making Gael feel even worse about the whole affair. 

Yes, Sven was good looking and great to be around, and yes he was full of surprises, but that didn’t mean he was in love. He just liked his smile a lot. And his hair looked great, too. He could pull off any look if he tried. And any woman. 

If Gael wasn’t around to get jealous and ruin everything. 

He groaned in annoyance, letting his head hang. 

Maybe he was just a _little_ infatuated. But not in love, definitely not.

 

* * *

 

The doorbell rung, and Sven almost ran to open it, his hair halfway into a glittery ponytail. Some time earlier, when Julia was giggling loudly, Theo had slammed his door closed, making Sven all the more anxious. 

He swung the door open to a startled Gael, who then looked at him wide-eyed, looking torn between laughing and running. 

To prevent the latter, he grabbed his collar and yanked him inside before slamming the door closed. 

“O-kaaaay, Julia, this is Gael, and he’s going to be looking after you now, so be nice, alright?”

Sven clapped Gael on the back when he didn’t expect it, making the redhead stumble forwards slightly, hands deep in his hoodie’s pockets. 

“Hi, Julia,” Gael said, smiling, a million question marks almost visibly swarming around his head. 

“Woah, your hair is sooo cool! Why’s your face all dotty?” Sven heard the little girl say while he turned to the staircase, and he spared a prayer for Gael’s soul, before going up to his own doom.

Theo was sulking, or so it seemed, but when Sven asked him to help get the glitter off his hair he sprung up to help. 

He was a great kid, and couldn’t betray his nature, Sven thought amusedly. 

Theo eyed him critically, barely managing to hide a snicker. 

“You know, those won’t come out that easily,” he unhelpfully supplied with a snort. 

Sven rolled his eyes and ducked his head above the bath tub, running his fingers through his hair. The glittery hairband with a winky unicorn face fell in it with a small clunk.

Already, glitter was falling like the snow outside. 

“Just help me out here,” he whined, and Theo padded closer to grab the shower head and start the water. 

Sven let him soak his hair with lukewarm water while he just held onto the edge of the tub for support. 

“She ever do this to you?” he asked. He hoped to get the boy to talk about his sister, and hopefully figure out what was tearing them apart. He was used to see them play together so much before, besides the usual stupid fights children normally had. 

Theo almost audibly rolled his eyes. “Of course, yeah. It sticks to the skin so hard, I’ve had to go to school with some on me.” His almost sad tone didn’t escape Sven.

He didn’t press further, scrubbing hard at his hair. 

To his surprise, it was Theo who broke the silence. 

“You know, I didn’t wanna talk about it with mom and dad, ‘cause they always get on my case about it and it’s really annoying,” the boy hesitantly said, kicking at nothing in particular and keeping his eyes downcast. 

Sven shut off the water and took the towel Theo handed him, tossing it on his head but saying nothing.

“It’s like I don’t even exist anymore lately. They’re always asking her about this and that, while I’m just…”

There was a silence, during which he rubbed his hair dry, letting the boy gather his thoughts. He knew better than to press him on, which he often scolded Mike for doing. 

Once he was done with the towel, he hung it on the rack to dry, before Theo walked out, beckoning for him to follow. 

They went back to his room, and Sven sunk back into the desk chair, cold hands in his unzipped hoodie’s pockets for warmth.

 

Downstairs was silent, and he didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing, but he decided to trust Gael for now. 

Theo was fidgeting with his fingers, sat on the edge of his bed, one leg kicking nervously. 

Two minutes went by, and then the boy suddenly huffed a frustrated breath, looking determined. 

“I just feel like it’s all because she’s there!” He suddenly exclaimed, crossing his arms, distress clear in his shaky voice. He tried to sound angry, Sven knew, but he just sounded hurt. 

He took a few seconds to ponder those words, feeling how heavy a statement it was for the young boy to make, then made his way over to the bed, the mattress dipping with his added weight.

“Look,” he begun, chewing on his lower lip. He wasn’t cut out for this, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. “I understand you feel left behind. But, you know, it’s a sign your parents trust you. They know you’re growing up now, you’ll be part of the big league very soon you know?” Sven chuckled, and Theo looked up at him, eyes slightly humid. 

“Is that true?” He asked with a small voice. “I’ll get to do whatever I want too? Like you?”

Sven laughed a little louder at that, patting the boy’s shoulder affectionately. 

“Yeah, just like me. That’s why your parents are worried about Julia more. She’s barely halfway to where you are, you know? She needs them. She just got started at school.”

Theo looked down, Sven continued. “She also needs her big brother.”

Theo pouted, unsure. “Why?”

“Because you’re older, and you know how it feels. Your parents, they’re way too old now to understand what both of you go through. So you have to rely on each other, okay? Julia counts on you, and you know you can count on her, right? She really loves you, and she told me she misses you.” Sven spoke softly.

Theo sniffled and suddenly hugged him tight, sobbing a little. Sven only smiled and rubbed his back. 

“I’m sorry,” Theo murmured between sobs, contrite. 

“Don’t be sorry, just keep your head up and fix what you feel you’ve done wrong, okay?” Sven supplied. 

“Can I go see her right now? She won’t be mad?” 

“I’m sure she’ll be super happy that you want to be around her again, you know. Let’s go.” 

Theo nodded and Sven headed downstairs with him in tow, relieved there hadn’t been more drama with the issue. His “cool uncle” status was really something he was thankful for at the moment. 

He rapped his knuckles against the door, under a glittery sign that read “Princess Julia”. 

There were a few of Julia’s giggles coming from inside, and the door opened to her pleased expression, her lips painted with barbie pink lipstick and a tiara atop her head. Gael was sitting cross-legged amid a mess of plushies and plastic tea supplies, but he got up as soon as he saw Sven, smiling easily. 

The long haired man signalled for the redhead to come, leaving the two children at the door. 

“Theo, I’m counting on you to stay with your sister, I’m heading out for just a minute, all right?” Sven asked, and the boy nodded determinately.

Sven headed towards the entrance to wrap his scarf around his neck and put his thick coat on, before opening the door, letting Gael out first.  
As the cold air bit him, he let out a sigh, letting the door fall closed while he dropped himself on the curb, next to the redhead who was already sitting.

 

“So,” Sven started. “This was part of your payment.” 

Gael’s brows shot up, but he was quick to look down when he caught up to what the long haired man meant. He had been avoiding him and never gave a reason, which hadn’t escaped the other’s attention quite obviously. At this point, Gael was just glad Sven wasn’t asking for explanations. 

“And this is the other part of your payment.” He continued, hanging a smoke between his grinning lips. 

Gael only rolled his eyes, in a way that begrudgingly said “suit yourself”.

Sven produced a lighter and shielded his cigarette from the wind, but it proved to not be enough for a flame to stay lit. Gael scooted up close to shield it with his hands too, and the cigarette finally lit. 

Sven took a long drag with his eyes closed, before exhaling slowly. Gael didn’t know where to look, so he glued his eyes to the floor. 

“So who are these kids?” He finally asked, crossing his arms on his lap. Sven brought his knees up to his chest. 

“Ah, they’re a band member’s kids. His name’s Mike. He’s been a friend for a long time too.” He explained, long fingers tapping the cigarette against the curb for the ash to fall. 

Gael nodded in understanding, squinting at the sun that peeked from between two clouds. The snow had let up for now, and some stray golden rays were making their way onto the white-coated world. 

He turned to watch Sven curiously, smoke curling above his face when he breathed out slowly, lips forming an ‘o’. He immediately regretted his decision, unwanted thoughts immediately swarming his head, like they had every single night since Mrs Bischel had woken up. He partly blamed Amaryllis for hammering it in. 

But he wasn’t in love, damn it. 

Sven was oblivious to his inner turmoil, cursing the cold under his breath, flicking his hair over his shoulder. He finished his smoke and got up, dusting himself, so Gael mimicked him gingerly. 

“About time I made lunch for the two monsters,” he muttered and cast Gael a sidelong glance and a wink, but then as the redhead was about to follow him inside, he pushed on his shoulder. 

“Hang on,” Sven said, stepping up to face him.

Gael froze completely, his mind going blank, and his eyes unhelpfully zeroing in on the taller man’s lips again. 

Sven just smiled and —for the love of god how could anyone be so oblivious, Gael felt like someone had set him on fire— raised his hand to rub at Gael’s cheek with a chuckle. 

“You got some sorta paint there, I guess Julia showed you her makeup collection huh,” he joked easily before stepping back and pushing the door open.

Gael stood there, braindead for what felt like an eternity, waiting for the feeling of Sven’s freezing hand to leave his skin and memory.

How could something so cold set such a blazing fire inside? 

The answer came by itself, clear as the sun piercing through the mushy clouds, hitting him dead on, mercilessly blinding. 

 

He _was_ in love, huh.


	13. Rift (and how to cross it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all my readers, though my wishes are belated. I hope you all have a wonderful time, wherever you are. 
> 
> Two more chapters to come very soon. Please look forward to them.

Sven was in the midst of shuffling about in the open-area kitchen, humming to himself and making all kinds of noises — from chopping to frying to washing and clunking — but Gael was quite honestly hearing none of it over the sound of his own thoughts.

He was slumped on the table, on a stool so high his feet didn’t even reach the floor, his head held between his hands.  
It was deafening almost, now that he was aware and cautious, how every grin Sven shot his way made him ever so slightly flustered and the urge to smile back was like a hook in his chest.

He was mortified, and when Julia came to him and tugged him by the hand he didn’t even protest, shuffling to his feet and following her like a zombie.

She lead him to her room where her brother was building an impressive lego castle, and shoved a blocky dragon in his hand, telling him he was the bad guy and needed to get through their army to steal away the princess, an oversized barbie that looked like she’d seen better days.

Gael took on his duty of babysitter by design very seriously, snapping to autopilot, making the dragon taunt the two kids in a raspy low voice.

A few roars later, the dragon was shot down by invisible arrows from Julia’s backline of defence, uttering its last words in a low dying breath. For emphasis, Gael collapsed dramatically as well.

Julia was thrilled, jumping to her feet to hop around the redhead, sitting on his chest proudly. She gave her brother a victorious high five.

The door creaked open, Julia excitedly telling Sven who peeked in that they’d defeated the mighty dragon, and Gael cracked and eye open to see the long haired man smirking at him. He decided that closing his eyes was better after all.

“You guys go wash your hands and go to the kitchen, food’s ready.” He told the children, and they scampered off, cheering.  
There was the sound of approaching footsteps.

“You died for real? Rest in peace,” Sven teased as he poked at Gael’s middle with his heel.

The latter sat up, stretching with a sigh and then a yawn.

“At least I’m gonna sleep well tonight. Talk about a rollercoaster of emotions,” Gael grumbled, talking about way more than just the children.

“Yeah.” Sven extended his hand, and Gael stared at it blankly.

When the long haired man waved it in front of his face, he finally took the hint, taking hold of it and getting up off the floor. It was a useless gesture really, because Gael knew he weighted more than Sven could handle, and if he really used the help they would’ve both ended up on the floor. He shook the thought off before he had the opportunity to really dwell on it and its implications.

He absentmindedly went to wash his hands after Sven in the kitchen sink, before letting himself be guided to the table. He sat on the spot Sven pushed him to, Theo asking him many questions about what he did.

“So you can swim real fast?” Julia perked up, waving her arms for emphasis.

Gael just nodded, smiling at how impressed she seemed by such a stupid thing.

She and Theo exchanged a glance, before the latter began dishing out even more questions faster than the redhead could even answer.

Sven soon came back carrying a large wok, shooting Gael a sympathetic look.

“Okay you monsters, time to leave Gael alone and dig in,” he said, as he started dishing generous portions to the children’s plates. When Gael’s turn came he shot him an inquisitive look, and Gael waved his hand dismissively, getting served a big spoonful of what looked like stir fry.

The two kids were devouring their meal, and Sven picked at his absentmindedly, finally giving the redhead some respite.

He liked a straight guy, that much he was willing to admit. As to how much he liked him, he wasn’t sure he could tell yet. Sven was a good looking guy for sure, his smiles rare but heartwarmingly sincere, with dark eyes that held too many enigmas to count and a posture that rivalled that of royalty.

Though, Gael wasn’t such an easily swayed guy, and he knew for a fact that what had gotten to him was his personality.

The seemingly dimmed and gruff façade wasn’t fooling him the slightest, he knew for a fact (mostly from having grown up with three younger siblings) that children wouldn’t take a liking to someone other than their parents that easily for one; and then he’d had plenty of occasions to notice the taller man’s badly hidden overflowing kindness and understanding.

He stuck around for an old lady he’d refused to get paid by, because she was lonely, and ended up treating her as a friend so dear he’d been shedding tears when they met on the hospital roof.

He’d thanked him when he’d invaded his friend’s space with Amaryllis, and welcomed the company with blind trust in him after knowing him for a few months or less only.

He’d opened his door to him and hung out with him when he was consumed by stress and worry, easing him into a more level-headed mood that had allowed him to not go completely insane lately.

“If you don’t eat it’s gonna go cold,” Sven said, casting him a sidelong glance.

“Ah”, Gael jolted, brought back from his daydreaming. “Sorry. I was spacing out.”

He picked up his fork and started digging in.

The noodles were delicious, with a faint soy sauce flavour and the distinct sweetness of sesame oil, accompanied seamlessly by the fresh crunch of caramelised carrots and steamed broccoli. The fine strips of beef were tender and juicy, practically melting in his mouth.

_"It’s just stir fry_." he told himself, scrunching his eyes closed. _"Don’t lose your shit."_

Nonetheless, he was still extremely “disappointed” that Sven kept piling on talents. It did nothing to alleviate his current dilemma, quite obviously the opposite.

“Is it bad? Damn, I should’ve known. My nose’s been all stuffy since the other day and I can’t really taste anything…” Sven drawled, looking disappointed and sorry.

“Uh, no, it’s really great, that’s not it. I’m thinking, is all.” Gael answered, offering a small smile.

Sven scrutinised his face and looked about to say something, but then his gaze drifted to the two kids happily stuffing their faces and he capitulated.

 

 

Once lunch was a done deed, they all helped clean and dry the plates and went back to the living room, Sven carrying a tray with two coffees while Julia invaded Gael’s lap for an after-lunch nap.

Theo stuck around scribbling on a sheet of paper left behind by his sister while the two adults chatted idly. Much of the afternoon was spent in that same cozy atmosphere, until Sven decided to get up and carry the long forgotten tray back to the kitchen.

He came back wearing a concerned expression, which Gael didn’t fail to notice.

“What’s up?” He asked, keeping perfectly still under the still snoozing child. Theo had gone back up to his room to do his homework a while ago.

“A blizzard rose up.” Sven said, fingers tapping against his thigh. He looked nervous. Gael said nothing, instead raising his brows at the long-haired man, wordlessly encouraging him to continue.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” He finally said, cringing slightly.

Gael shook his head.

“No, I’m not. But what’s wrong? You’re worrying me, man.”

Sven sighed in relief at his answer.

“Good. Stay.” He said gruffly, leaving the room once again, and soon the sound of the faucet opening accompanied Gael’s astonishment.

_Stay? Stay?…_

 

 

After dinner that night, the children had become incredibly hyped. Be it Sven’s presence, or their recent reconciliation, God knows. But they were running, jumping and screaming all over the damn place, and both young men were trying to get them under control, Gael being the one that mostly managed to keep up with them, but a sudden nosebleed put him out of commission — or rather, Sven pushing him into an armchair did. The redhead sat and watched amused as the long haired man ran, pleaded, tried to blackmail the kids with sweets, but nothing worked.

No, it wasn’t until they both jumped on the couch at the same time, Sven catching his breath, and the couch suddenly emitting a loud cracking noise that the madness finally stopped. Both adults jolted, and the children hurriedly got down from it.

Sven hurried to lift up the cushions and pat down the woodwork, an angry look on his face.

“The framework is broken… Ugh, this thing was probably expensive as f— uh, hell…” He threw his hands up in the air. “I can say goodbye to my month’s pay now, huh.” He looked defeated.

From his armchair, Gael chuckled.

“I haven’t been much help in the situation, so I’ll at least help with the repairing fee…” He shrugged.

Sven beamed at him, and Gael smiled back.

The children looked confused, probably expecting an outburst, which Sven remembered about when seeing their astonished faces.

“You two,” he glowered, and the siblings recoiled. “Off to brush your teeth, and then to bed. Now.”

They scampered off without a word, yelling their goodnights over their shoulder.

Sven huffed, making a strand of hair fly, and crossed his arms. Gael laughed again.

A sudden gust of wind made the windows tremble, and the redhead looked at one in wonder. It was covered in frost and snow, and with how dark it was outside it was impossible to tell what condition the street was in.

Sven looked somewhat uncomfortable.

“Looks like it really isn’t going to let up any time soon, huh.” He told the long haired man.

He nodded in reply.  
“Yeah, well. I was gonna give you the guest bedroom and sleep on the couch, but that’s not an option anymore. I hope you don’t mind sharing a bed with a hairy monkey.” He said with a wink.

Gael froze for a second, hoping it didn’t show on his face.  
“It’s fine, I don’t care either way,” he managed to say, waving a hand in dismissal. “Hope your friends don’t mind that you brought a weird stranger in their home in the first place.”

“Eh, I got my eye on you. You’re under my supervision,” Sven answered easily, puffing his chest out and putting his fists on his hips.  
Gael laughed lightly-heartedly, but he was really panicking a little. He wasn’t ready to sleep in the same bed as someone he discovered he liked recently.

“Well,” Sven spoke again, cutting his train of thought. “for now, let’s go make the bed.”

Gael nodded and got up, following Sven down a corridor into a pristine room. The long haired man opened a closet and passed him clean sheets, and they both spent a few minutes figuring out how to make the bed. It somehow ended with Sven on all fours over the bed and Gael yanking on one corner of the bedsheets, wheezing through a fit of laughter. Whenever he yanked on one corner, the opposite side’s came springing up in response, which was why Sven was playing a game of solo twister in the first place.

When they finally managed to get the room sorted, Sven sat on the edge of it before letting himself fall backwards, gaze gluing itself to the ceiling; Gael sitting at the foot of the bed with his side almost touching Sven’s leg. The silence between them was painted with comforting familiarity, despite the sturdy windows shaking a bit and whistling agains the brazen winds.

The cozy and lulling mood that had settled over them burst like a bubble soon enough, when an astoundingly loud crash of thunder sounded above, making the walls shake slightly under the force and proximity of it.

It would have been fine in Gael’s opinion, if it hadn’t left them completely in the dark, apart from the occasional flash of lightning that painted the surroundings with blinding light.

“Power went out… Oh well. Think I can still shower in the dark?” Gael joked half-heartedly, getting up. He wasn’t about to go anywhere anytime soon though, since an iron grip took hold of his bicep.

He turned his head to try and discern what was going on behind him, helped by another sudden flash of light.  
Sven was on his knees on the bed, gripping his arms, eyes wide in what looked like fear.

“W-what’s wrong?” Gael stuttered slightly, caught off guard by the sudden mood shift.

“I… ugh…” Sven’s voice came out strangled, prompting Gael to sit on the edge of the bed after prying Sven’s fingers off.

“Come on dude, tell me. You’re making me worried as hell.” He whisper-talked. He didn’t want to treat Sven like a scared animal, but without knowing what caused such a reaction in him it was hard to know what stance to take.

Sven seemed unsettled enough that he didn’t care when his hands shakily reached out, one making contact with Gael’s shoulder, and he used that as a reference to sit very close in front of him. Gael could feel him shaking slightly.

He sat in silence expectantly, waiting for Sven to be ready and spill the proverbial beans.  
“I’m, ah… scared of storms…” Sven finally choked out, between shaky fear and burning embarrassment.

Gael blinked in surprise, sudden relief watching over him. He wiggled to get into a better position, cross-legged and back slightly hunched.

“Dude, thank fuck! I thought it was going to be something bad happening to you. I thought you were sick or hurt or something.” He said with a sigh, squeezing the long haired man’s shoulder.

Thunder boomed and lit up the room once again, and he saw Sven was hiding his face behind his hands. He also felt him jolt at the sudden noise under his hand still resting on his shoulder.

“I’m so lame…” Sven mumbled through his hands.

Gael chuckled.

“Nah, it’s cool. Don’t sweat it. My brothers are like that too.” He said, letting his hand slide off from Sven’s shoulder.  
There was a fleeting silence between them, during which Sven scooted over to be besides Gael rather than in front of him, putting his back against the headboard. He dragged his knees close to his chest and sighed. When he spoke again, he sounded hesitant.

“What did you usually do to comfort them?” He asked sheepishly.  
Gael fidgeted with the hem of his sweater, glad the lack of light prevented Sven from seeing his face.

“I would stay with them, talk to them until they were too tired to go on, and hug them until they fell asleep.”

Sven chuckled, not surprised to learn that Gael was such a good older brother.

“That’s so nice of you. I don’t think that’d work on me though,” he said in a joking tone, but his leg was bouncing up and down nervously.

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Gael said with humour, and Sven could just imagine him waggling his brows at him.

He punched him in the arm lightly for being a dork.

“We should just sleep already.” Sven said matter of factly, not without a shudder when the windows shook with the wind particularly violently.

“Yeah. Mind if I take some stuff off?” Gael absentmindedly asked, but he was already halfway through wiggling out of his sweater, shirt and jeans.

“I’m going to do the same, so make yourself at home.” Came the quiet reply.

Soon enough, they were both lying in the bed, as far from each other as it would allow them, facing the ceiling, Sven clad in his shirt and boxers while Gael only in the latter.

“Hey…” Sven said, sounding unusually quiet.

Gael answered with a curious hum.

“Can I ask you a favour?”

The redhead rolled on his side to face Sven, but was still unable to see him in the complete darkness.

“Shoot,” he answered simply, closing his eyes and marvelling at just how soft the bedsheets were.

“I gotta go to work tomorrow, and Mike and Anastasia probably won’t be back until nightfall…”

Gael yawned and stretched, his articulations making a few cracks and pops.

“Sure, dude. I’ll look after the kids, no problem. But for now, I’m beat, so… good night, honey,” he joked with a laugh.

Sven chuckled too, settling more calmly in the dark.

“Yeah. Goodnight sweetheart.”

 

* * *

 

 

The following day at work revealed to be extremely peaceful, since no one except a few marginals felt like facing the still relentless snow to grab a coffee.  
Which was a good thing, since he was exhausted. After they had said their goodnights, Sven was left to his fears, while the short distance between Gael and him might as well have been kilometres. He was very tempted to grab onto the redhead or shake him back awake to just talk the night away, but he didn’t find it in himself to. Not to mention how weird it would have seemed. At the very least, when the storm’s sounds weren’t too loud, he found it comforting to listen to the smaller man’s even breathing.  
He hoped the kids weren’t giving him a hard time.

 

* * *

 

Gael had woken up roughly when Sven had, and just listened to him shuffle out of bed and into his clothes, then exit the room as quietly as he could, making Gael stifle a chuckle, because the efforts definitely were a waste.

He got up shortly after, dressing as well and wandering around the house until he made his way to the kitchen, familiarising himself with the placement of everything before the kids even woke up.

It wasn’t long before a sleepy Julia came padding into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Morning Gael,” she said in a small voice, looking up at him with reddened eyes.

He was reminded so much of his younger siblings that he couldn’t resist picking her up and placing her against his hip.

“Morning, sleepyhead. Did you sleep okay?” He smiled at her.

She nodded and smiled back drowsily.

“The storm helped a lot!” She exclaimed, waving a hand around. It made the redhead chuckle, thinking about the previous night’s events. He guessed Sven would probably not like his courage being belittled next to a little girl’s. 

“That’s good.” He walked over to the isle and sat her down on a high stool. “What do you like eating for breakfast?” He asked, tapping his cheek with one finger, slightly antsy about his usually mediocre cooking.

The little girl kicked her legs in thought, humming to herself seemingly pondering the most important matter of her day.

“Pancakes!” she exclaimed suddenly, little hands clapping cheerily.

Gael smiled at the outburst and fished his phone out of his pocket, deciding to use the _fancy_ GPRS to google an easy pancake recipe.

After some reading over, he got to work.

Soon after he started on his endeavour, Theo came ambling down the stairs, looking like he’d just gotten out of the shower.

“Hi,” he said quietly, coming to sit in front of his sister. He looked notably more placated than the previous day, his features relaxed and more off-guard basking in the familiar routine of breakfast.

“Gael’s making us pancakes!” Julia announced excitedly, her hands shooting up in the air in emphasis.

Gael giggled while Theo cheered as well.

A few minutes later, a golden stack of pancakes was in the middle of the table, and the kids were patiently waiting for Gael to come back from shaking his flour-laden shirt outside.

They settled and ate in peace, leaving the clutter the kitchen had become for later.

Gael snuck a few looks around to gauge the children’s reactions, and though luckily they weren’t choking on his creations, they didn’t look remarkably pleased either compared to earlier.

“Something wrong?” he asked, arching a brow at his two protégés.

Julia’s face fell slightly, her fork poking at her food.

“Sven’s are better.” She admitted quietly, her brother nodding in agreement.

Gael grimaced, but didn’t object right away.

“Come on guys, they’re not that bad…” he tried to defend himself, but it came out more on the tone of apology.

“So you and Sven are best friends?” Theo asked, setting aside his plate and leaning on the table.

Gael was slightly taken aback by the question, pondering on the thought for a suitable response.

He would say that Sven was his best friend in years without a doubt, even despite the rift he’d caused himself by having unwanted feelings.

He wasn’t ready to give up that friendship, that much he’d discovered during the time they spent apart and he mindlessly trained like he did before, except the azure waters no longer brought thoughtless comfort like they used to, instead leaving him to his own thoughts about his many problems and insecurities. He’d had time to admit to himself that Amaryllis was right, too: he really should be honest and just tell the truth to the long-haired man about his precarious health condition.

His feelings would just have to fade. He would _make_ them.

“Well, I don’t know about that. We haven’t known each other for that long.” He said with a shrug, getting up to clear the plates and start cleaning up his mess.

“But…” Julia started, but didn’t finish. Gael left it at that.

 

* * *

 

 Sven came back to the quiet house when the sun was setting, pushing open the door and calling Gael’s name. The response came as a shush, Gael’s head poking from behind a wall.

“We’re playing cards with Theo, Julia has been asleep for about twenty minutes now,” he said with a smile, that had Sven grinning back. He was so thankful to the redhead. He could consider himself forgiven for being so distant.

“How did they behave?” He asked as Gael motioned for him to follow. He joined Theo and him at the table, and was dealt some cards.

“Great, besides insulting my cooking,” the smaller man replied, eyeing Theo with a miffed expression. The young teen merely shrugged with a grin.

“I can’t help it, you’re just better at it Sven,” he said casually, throwing the first card out.

Sven laughed, patting Gael on the back empathically.

“I’ll teach you sometime.” He huffed.

 

The game was going well for everyone except Sven when the sound of the door opening interrupted their get get-together.

Anastasia and Mike stepped into the living room, Gael standing up immediately and a little to tensely for Sven’s taste. He got up as well to greet the couple and proceed with the introductions.

“So, how was the weekend guys?” he started, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Pretty good,” Anastasia replied, nodding to Gael in greeting. “The blizzard added to the experience, I guess.” She shrugged.

“Well. I guess that’s good enough. Anyway, this is Gael, a good friend.” he gave the redhead’s back a loud smack. “He helped me a lot with looking after your monsters, since I had work today but no one bothered to ask in the first place.” He shot Mike a glare, getting a sheepish grin in return.

“Pleased to meet you,” Gael smiled and shook the couple’s hands while he practically glowed with friendliness. “I’m sorry to say, but there was some property damage… We’ve already agreed to split the costs for repai—“

He was cut off by Anastasia tsk-ing him, shaking her head.

“None of that. How many things were broken?” She asked.

“Two things, a vase and the couch’s wooden frame.” Sven piped up, looking entirely unconcerned.

“Only two? That’s great!” Mike exclaimed, beaming at Theo who rolled his eyes. “These two kids get easily excited, especially when new faces are around, so don’t sweat it too much Gael. We’ll sort it out ourselves, you already had the kindness to help out of nowhere with absolutely no obligation, so you have our thanks.”

Anastasia nodded in agreement.

“You guys must be hungry. Please stay for dinner, as manner of thanks.”

 

And stay they did. Dinner was a pleasant experience, with the kids chattering away about what they did and the storm as well, along with sheepish apologies about the broken couch.

Mike talked to Gael while Anastasia listened, learning about his career and past.

“So your situation isn’t too far from our friend over there,” Mike said, pointing at Sven with his thumb and a grin plastered on his face.

“Guess so,” Gael answered with a shrug.

“You should come dine with us for Christmas. All the others will be there too,” Anastasia said, the last part intended for Sven’s attention. “I would feel better knowing you two don’t spend that night alone, and the kids would love it too.”

At that, Theo smiled at the two and Julia hooted excitedly.

They were left with no choice but to accept, under Anastasia’s warm smile.

 

  
When they were on the way back to their respective homes, sharing a bit of the road before parting, Sven decided it was time to say something about their previous wordless altercation, if it even could be called that in the first place.

“So you’re done avoiding me?” He asked, casting a sidelong glance at the smaller redhead, watching him tense under the words.

“Ugh, I’m sorry… I haven’t been…” He wanted to tell the truth, and tell him all about his condition, but right then and there he didn’t find it in himself to.

Sven shrugged it off, sighing.

“It’s alright, I guess you got a lot on your plate. But you can talk to me, alright? Whatever it is.”

They were silent the rest of the way, and when they parted, a thick knot weighed down the back of Gael’s throat.

 

* * *

 

  
The days before the Christmas dinner were eventless and peaceful, for Sven spent working or hanging out with Gael and Amaryllis, and for Gael the latter plus some training.

All three of them were gathered in the teen’s room at the hospital the night of the dinner, her lap empty of her usual stack of treats.

“So you two are telling me that you’re going to someone’s place to stuff your faces for free, and then you’re telling me to keep calm about it.” She deadpanned, eyes boring holes into their sorry faces.

“Yeah, but come on… Don’t be like this, you don’t even know these people. We can’t just take you there unannounced.” Gael tried to reason, but the teen shot him a fiery glare.

He shrunk back into his armchair with a grumble.

Sven sighed at her nonsense, crossing his arms.

“Look. When we’re done there, we’ll pick you up and make something nice at my place. How about that?”

She immediately lightened up, a wide grin very nearly splitting her face.

“Hell yeah!” She hooted, pumping a fist in the air.

 

Sven, on that moment, might just have immediately gotten the feeling that he was going to regret his decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee. 
> 
> http://ko-fi.com/tsuracy  
> [](https://ko-fi.com/H2H36AXT)


	14. At least you tried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the late upload... i hope it's still christmas in your hearts qq
> 
> Snow Cold is one year old!!! happy birthday!

He was no stranger to festivities, of course. He had had his fair share during his upbringing, though it was definitely not thanks to his parents. More often than not, he would celebrate with friends and have a noncommittal good time. It would not matter what they did, as long as they were together to have fun.  
  
This time however, things were different. 

He needed to make an impression, lose his habitual nonchalance to become somewhat presentable. He pertinently knew it was not his domain, but he would try his damn best anyway, and not only for Sven’s sake. Or at least that’s what he told himself. 

He spent some time choosing his outfit in the warmly lit hotel room, settling for a plain black shirt, dark blue denims and a brown leather jacket, knowing the latter would go nicely with similarity hued leather shoes.  
  
He combed his hair lightly, not wanting the difference to be too obvious, splashed on a small amount of cologne and gave himself a once over in the bathroom mirror, nodding to his reflection once he was satisfied with the results.  
  
With one look at the clock on the wall, he determined it was high time to get going.  
  
He was halfway out of his room when his phone buzzed, and flipping it open revealed some whatsapp notifications.  
  
_Ama~❁ created the group “trash boi squad”_  
_Ama~❁ added you_  
_Ama~❁ added sven k_  
_Ama~❁ 20:12_  
ENJOY HAVING FUN WITHOUT ME YOU FUCKLETS  
_Ama~❁ 20:12_  
im watching u  
  
Gael snorted at the messages.  
  
_Gael 20:13_  
dont worry, we will  
  
He provided no other answer when angry emojis flooded the chat.  
  
  
At the doorstep, Gael found himself waiting for Sven to show up, having sent a message to know if he’d gotten there already.  
  
“ _I”m on my way. Wait for me if you want to._ ” had come the response, the long haired man choosing to knowingly ignore all that had transpired in the newly made chat. He guessed Amaryllis would remind him of its existence soon enough.  
  
About three minutes later, Sven appeared at the corner of the street, wrapped in a navy and burgundy Moncler coat. He had a black beanie on, keeping his hair under control and protected from the wind that arose earlier in the evening. He was wearing boots over his jeans, and Gael thought that was much smarter than his attempt at being classy. 

Sven was dressed casually, but it still looked... _good_. He didn’t know how the guy was pulling it off, and it was slightly getting on his nerves. Sven looking good in anything he wore definitely did not help.  
  
“How are you?” Sven smiled, his hands deep in his pockets.  
“Good. A little nervous.” He smiled back, nodding slightly while he stared at the floor. “You?”  
“Great. Sorry I’m so late.” He started heading for the door, but hesitated when his hand reached the knob. “Oh. And, no need to be nervous. I’m sure they’re all gonna love you. They’re just a bunch of dorks, really.” He said with a wide grin.  
  
Gael felt a little starstruck, but followed Sven inside nonetheless. The house had been decorated since the last time they’d been there, Christmas ornaments peppered the shelves and doors with red tinsel and string lights considerably warming up the atmosphere. 

Gael’s heart was pounding despite Sven’s reassurance, and he kept his chin down as they entered the living room. 

The first thing he noticed was that the couch had been repaired, now three men sitting on it with a merry look on their faces. Anastasia was on a pouf with Julia on her knee and Theo hanging back fiddling with decorations on the Christmas tree. 

“Oho! Sven!” Mike exclaimed, getting up from his seat. “And Gael, too!”

He walked over to greet them, clapping on Sven’s back as he hugged him shortly and then shaking Gael’s hand warmly. They said hi to the rest of the guests as well, Gael managing to look relaxed. 

“I’m really glad you showed up, both of you. Come sit!” He said, but the kids had perked up at the mention of their names. 

Julia was trying to wiggle out of her mom’s lap, while Theo walked up to them with a wide smile. 

“You gotta help me with the decorations!” He said walking over with a tinsel garland in his hands. 

Gael caught Sven’s eye going from Theo to the place where the others sat with a slight frown, and decided to intervene. 

“I’ll help,” he said with a shrug. “It’s been so long since I last decorated a tree.”

Theo’s face lit up immediately, and he dragged Gael away. 

“That guy’s a real catch,” Mike said jokingly, earning a weird look from Sven. 

“So who else’s gonna show up?” He asked, ignoring Mike’s joke as they sat on the couch. 

“Uh, a few of Ana’s friends and that’ll be it. It’s a small party, but a party nonetheless.” Mike shrugged, and Sven nodded slightly, watching Julia and Anastasia talk and giggle.  
  
Gael hung up ornaments in the tree meticulously, asking Theo if it was okay practically each time. The young teen seemed to appreciate his consideration, puffing out his chest with pride at being held into account just like any adult.  
  
After a while it became hard to even see the tree at all underneath all the shiny decorations.  
  
Gael’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out to have a look.  
  
_1 new message from Ama~❁_  
  
He rolled his eyes and opened it.  
  
_Ama~❁ 21:44_  
u better not be messing up. u gotta get these peoples blessings  
do ur best precious gingerbread boi  
  
_Gael 21:45_  
shutup  
  
With that, he shoved the phone back deep in his pocket, promising he would not look at it again during the night.  
  
Once Theo decided they were done decorating, Gael was free to join the others around the low table, and the young teen decided to follow once he saw there were snacks on the table.  
  
Gael sat on a seat similar to Anastasia’s, facing the couch.  
  
Everyone seemed to have a lot of fun, Sven included, a rare wide smile etched on his features. 

He decided to listen to the conversation rather than participate in it, he hardly knew anything about the technicalities of music anyway. 

On Sven’s right side was a smaller, shy-looking man with brown hair and blue eyes. He talked quietly, and didn’t expand much in the realm of useless explanations. To Sven’s left was a guy that looked a lot like Mike, probably a sibling. He was as good-natured as his (probably) brother and easily likeable, wearing his heart on his sleeve. Mike was sitting next to him. 

Anastasia wasn’t taking part in the conversation, instead doing pretty much the same as he was, and when he glanced at her she caught her gaze.  
  
“So Gael,” she said, turning her body to face him. “How exactly did you meet Sven?” she asked with a sweet smile. 

“Ah, well. It was a bit of a coincidence. I was headed up to the hospital roof to…” _to avoid my manager,_ he thought, but caught himself before it slipped up. “… get some air, and he was there,” Gael shrugged. “I would’ve left him alone, I didn’t mean to intrude, but he looked really down.”  
  
She smiled gently but didn’t say anything, which made Gael slightly uncomfortable. Luckily, he wasn’t left to his own devices for too long, once his wandering gaze caught Sven’s.  
  
“Oh, guys wait, I’m the worst. I didn’t introduce you all to Gael.” He said, getting up to walk to the redhead’s side and smack a hand down on his shoulder. The smaller man looked like a deer caught in the headlights.  
  
“This is Joann,” Sven said motioning with his hand towards the shy blue-eyed man, who timidly waved his hand at him, “and this one there is Tom, Mike’s brother.” He motioned to the other guy Gael didn’t know. The redhead nodded with a smile.  
  
“Nice to meet you. I’m sure now you all know my name…”  
  
“We know a little more than that though,” Joann spoke up to everyone’s surprise. “Sven’s told us a lot about you.” 

Sven scratched at his cheek sheepishly. 

“Yeah, well. He’s a good friend.” He smirked. “More than any of you so far, might I add.”

Gael didn’t really know how to feel, so he decided to just laugh it off. 

  
During the night and before dinner, two more couples found their way in, revealing to be good friends of Anastasia’s. Gael didn’t have to feel too left out, since Sven didn’t know them either. One of the couples was composed of two foreign women, their accent sounding American; they were both sweet and outspoken, making easy conversation and bringing even more life to the party. The other couple comprised a quiet man and a mute woman. It was right then and there that Gael learned that Sven was very proficient in sign language, acting like a medium between he and the woman who seemed pleasantly surprised. Gael at this point, ironically decided he would just stop paying attention to the long haired man _forever_.  
  
He wouldn’t admit out loud, but during the dinner, he’d gotten somewhat drunk. The food had been delicious, the roast juicy yet crispy on the outside, and the broiled vegetables outdoing his wildest expectations. It hadn’t come as a surprise to hear Sven had helped out with the meal, Gael having already understood he should be fearful of the man’s skills in the kitchen. All in all, the meal cushioned his stomach for all the alcohol he ended up drinking, but not enough for him not to sway slightly in his chair. It’d been almost ten years since he last had something else than beer after all. 

“You’ll make a woman very happy, it’s too bad it’s not me.” Anastasia said with a dreamy sigh to Sven, propping her head up on her hand to blink slowly at the long-haired man sitting across from her. 

“Hey, now, what?” Mike said, through his drunken haze, being the one who drank the most. 

She laughed open-heartedly, patting her husband on the shoulder. 

“I’m just kidding. I’m way too happy with you and the kids already. I’m just teasing an old boy who needs to up his game.” 

She winked at Sven, who sputtered some things along the lines of ‘you’re not my mom’ and ‘I don’t have time for that’. 

Gael giggled idly, earning a knowing look from the woman sitting across from him, still comforting her husband. 

“Anyway, Gael, would you be a dear and fetch the dessert?”

The redhead nodded, got up, and sashayed his way to the kitchen as soberly as he could manage. He left the comforting chatter of the sated group of guests behind, taking the dirty dishes with him.  
  
After putting the dishes in the sink, he took a moment to collect himself, heaving a sigh with hands resting against the edge of the now full sink. 

“You okay there?” 

He jolted and turned to face the door a little too fast, the world around him spinning slightly. 

Sven was peeking in, and after seeing the redhead wobble slightly, he decided to come into the kitchen, leaving the door open behind. He had a slight flush to his cheeks as well, even though he hadn’t had half of what Gael did. 

“Seriously, are you okay?” He reiterated, now a lot closer than Gael would like him to be, in his inebriated state.

“Yeah. Might’ve had just a bit too much to drink.” He replied honestly, turning to the fridge and opening it, immediately face to face with the masterpiece that was their dessert. 

“Wow.” He said under his breath. “You made this, didn’t you?”

He heard more than he saw Sven shrug, the taller man stepping closer behind him to cast a critical look at the cake. 

“Yeah. How’d you know?” there was a slight pause. “It doesn’t look too unprofessional, does it?” 

“Pffft, what? Get outta here,” Gael chuckled, grabbing the dish and stepping backwards. Sven shuffled back as well, but his leg caught against the small table where a bowl of fruit rested, and the redhead’s back bumped against his chest.  
  
“Ah, sorry—“ Sven said, pressing harder back against the table to allow Gael to pass through.  
  
“Damn, I’m sorry, I think I grazed it…” He said after managing to make his way past the sink and resting the cake on the counter to stare at his fingers. He was feeling slightly dizzy and nervous, a knot forming in his throat along with the nervous butterflies in his stomach. Drinking had been a big mistake on his account.  
  
There was some icing on his finger, and he mindlessly went to wipe it with some paper towels; but was met with Sven blocking his path instead. The taller man snatched his wrist and held his hand up, and he might as well just have speared Gael right then and there. 

For some reason apparently, he thought licking the icing off was an excellent idea. 

A violent tremor went up Gael’a body at the contact, along with a lot of blood. He felt himself blush violently but did his best not to move, despite his pounding heart.  
  
Sven just made a face, his face set. 

“It’s... okay, I guess.” he muttered to himself, and Gael was just staring wide-eyed. “Oh. Uh... Sorry about that.” Sven said with a sheepish grin, releasing his hand and winking jokingly. “Gayest thing I’ve done in my whole life.” He cackled, opening a drawer to pick up a knife. “But I had to know if it tasted like 'fridge', you know?” He opened another closet. “Anyway, I’ll grab the plates, can you carry that thing to the table?”  
  
Gael took two more seconds before reacting, shaking his head and slapping himself mentally. He had to take hold of the situation, or Sven would be able to tell something was off.  
“Sure thing.” He said, voice feeling somewhat muted, and did as he was told.  
  
A series of oohs and aahs accompanied his return to the dining table with the elaborate cake, and he carefully deposited it in the middle of the table, glad to take his seat back one he’d done his duty. Sven followed closely with plates, the knife and spoons, and now his mere presence had Gael flustered all over again. It made him want to bang his head against the table.  
  
The rest of the dinner went smoothly, much unlike the redhead’s heart rate. When he parted ways with everyone, insisting he would be fine walking home, he was left alone to face his realisation.  
Considerably sobered up by the events, it was now clear to him he had absolutely no control whatsoever over his own feelings, and had been much too naive to even think he did.  
Being able to pretend everything was normal, even sharing a bed, seemed like a distant memory now.  
  
  
Later, the three of them were at Sven’s place, Amaryllis sputtering happily at the prospect of food.  
  
At one point, Sven excused himself to the kitchen, leaving the two redheads behind. Amaryllis was cross legged on the bed and Gael had his back against it, sitting on the floor.  
Amaryllis’ demeanour immediately changed, making Gael jolt. 

“So tell me what the fuck happened!” She all but hissed, leaning towards him in secrecy. 

Gael stared wide-eyed at her now too-close-for-comfort face, mind reeling to understand what she was talking about. 

She rolled her eyes and pointed to the kitchen with her thumb. 

“You’ve been all silent and blushy, don’t think you can fool Mother.” She said, crossing her arms close to her chest. Along with her chastising expression, she really did look like a mother. 

“Ah.” Gael begun, finding that one particular spot on the floor suddenly very interesting. “I, uh. Well. Dude. He licked icing off my finger.” He whispered, wide eyes going back to her face. 

Her face remained blank for a few seconds before she was all devious grin and giggles. 

“Oh I knew it. Wait for me right here. You’ll love your Christmas gift.” 

With that, she got up and limped her way to the kitchen as well, and Gael was left alone in his confusion.  
  
  
Sven was busy preparing things for them to enjoy, but it seemed as though Amaryllis couldn’t care less. She’d appeared behind him out of thin air, sporting a smug look that could only mean bad news. He apprehensively turned around to face her, prompting her to break into an even larger grin. 

“So,” she begun, her tone purposely detached and articulated. “Seems like someone was intent on keeping a little secret.”

Sven raised his brows, suddenly relieved. He had no secrets in hiding. 

“Oh yeah?” he said mindlessly, turning back to what he was doing. 

She circled around him like a wolf around its prey, but he felt safe. 

“Mmmmhm.” she drawled, coming to stand close to him, her eyes dead set on what he was doing. “Someone, as in, _you_...” she paused meaningfully, eyes slowly raising to his face once again. “... metal boy.” 

He very nearly dropped everything to the floor, a sudden cold sweat breaking. 

“What?” he all but croaked, now looking at her with dread. He’d been successfully hunted and caught, all the while having that false sense of security prey has when stalked by a master of disguise. “So you know...?”

“That you’re basically a damn celebrity? You better believe it. You can’t fool me, I’m not freckled.” She said coolly, and her voice held a certain edge that was intimidating for someone her age.  
  
Sven stood there chewing on his lip.  
“You’re gonna tell Gael?” he practically whispered.  
  
“Don’t want me to?” She said with a tilt of her head, dripping with false innocence.  
  
“Duh.” He said, now avoiding to meet her eye.  
  
“Why?”  
  
He paused. His explanation might sound stupid, but he guessed it was not in his best interest to hide anything from her at the moment. He might as well just spill the beans.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he stopped what he was doing for the umpteenth time. 

“Honestly, he’s my best friend at the moment. I mean, up until now.” He let his gaze wander up to the ceiling, eyes veiling with recollection. “Ever since I was a kid, whatever relationship I had with anyone was always laced with expectations. Be it my parents, my schools, my friends... Even now it’s like that. The guys expect me to spearhead the band, as they’ve always done, and after a while, it’s tiring. So... it’s nice for a change, to be taken off guard, and that nothing but being myself is expected from me. Gael doesn’t judge me, he doesn’t expect a thing, he’s just... a good friend. And I don’t want that to change.”

Done with his spiel, he turned back to his tasks, now well put together and done.  
  
There was just silence for a while, then some shuffling.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and he smiled faintly.  
  
“I understand,” Amaryllis said solemnly. “Your not-so-secret is safe with me.”  
  
He was about to thank her, but...  
  
“As long as you do everything I tell you to whenever I want you to.”  
  
Again the wolfish grin returned, and Sven could only squirm between her sharpened claws. 

  
  
They all settled on the floor around Sven’s low table, a bunch of food arranged in the middle. The smell was amazing, and it looked as good as it smelled.  
Amaryllis looked like she was barely containing herself, and when Sven gave the okay she was already serving her plate with the speed of light.  
He’d managed to pull together last minute chicken supreme, with sautéed vegetables and some rice. Both adults had a little to eat for the sake of not letting the teen eat by herself, even though they had so much to eat at Mike’s they felt like they would burst at any second.  
  
  
When it was over and done with, it was about midnight and some music was playing discretely in the background, while both boys looked at Amaryllis ogle her presents.  
“There’s like… five boxes, all for me? It’s super nice of you dudes but I don’t have anything for you, you know that, right?”

They both shrugged, Sven urging her wordlessly to just open the damn boxes. 

Her expression lit up with pure glee, lithe fingers tearing unceremoniously at the paper with unbridled excitement. 

The first gift was from Gael, a DVD box set of a series she’d mentioned loving but losing track of, and she accepted the gift with many happy exclamations. 

The second and third were from Sven, the first a joke gift — a book with an overwhelmingly boring premise, the autobiography of a well-known politician — and the second a USB DVD reader. 

Amaryllis vaguely commenting on having no computer, and that back home she would share one with her dad, but that the gift would be useful to them nonetheless since their laptop had no CD port. 

The fourth was from Gael yet again, and was a box of expensive chocolates that nearly had the artificial redhead tearing up. She immediately chose one and ate it with a face of pure delight. Proper to her character, she didn’t share, and had she wanted to the two others would have refused anyway. 

The fifth gift was a bit bigger and on the heavier side, and Amaryllis looked puzzled for a second before opening it with as much enthusiasm as the first. When she saw the unwrapped box however, her expression faltered to one of concern. 

“You… got me a computer, you insane psychos?” She said in disbelief, her tone missing its usual tease. 

They both smiled and shrugged yet again, Gael drumming against the table and Sven leaning forwards on the table. 

“Open it  and set it up already,” the latter said with a wave of his hand. 

“But I can’t accept this.” Amaryllis tried, her eyes lingering on the crisp box. 

“Oh yes you can, and you will. Do as mom says,” Gael said, and got a good elbow to the ribs from “mom”. 

She seemed to have a few seconds more of internal conflict, before shrugging and letting a wide smile nearly split her face. 

“To hell with it!”

She tore the box open and got a sleek black computer out of it, nearly tearing up again. 

“You two are insane and I will never forgive you,” she sniffled, while plugging the cord to the wall behind her. 

“Sure you won’t.” Gael said with a wink, while Sven got up and disappeared into the kitchen. 

She left her computer charging while nagging the redhead, and then Sven appeared back into the living room with a jar of something beige and three glass cups. He set it all down on the table under Amaryllis’ curious gaze. 

“Is that what I think it is?” She asked, her eyes practically twinkling with hope. 

“It’s eggnog.” Sven deadpanned. 

“So it is,” she whispered in amazement. 

He shrugged and poured the cups, each picking one and having a tentative sip. 

Gael found it nice, Sven didn’t care too much for it, and Amaryllis sprayed the latter with it when she spit it out. 

He made a face, eyes scrunched closed, while Amaryllis looked only vaguely guilty and Gael doubled over with suffocating laughter. 

“Oops… Sorry… It’s just really gross… I can totally taste the raw egg yolk…” she tried, slightly faltering under Sven’s thunderous expression, and Gael thought it was no small feat to make the brash teen cower. 

Sven sighed loudly and stormed off to the bathroom, and the two left behind soon heard the shower turn on. 

Gael grinned. 

“At least you tried.”  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop me a cent at http://ko-fi.com/tsuracy
> 
>  
> 
> [](https://ko-fi.com/H2H36AXT)  
> 


	15. Dared and Defeated

  
  
“You ought to bring your friends here some time,” Mrs Bischel said, still fussing about in her kitchen to make tea. 

“Uh, huh?” Sven perked up a little too fast, interrupting his arpeggios in favour of looking in her direction, though he could only see part of her back. 

The afternoon atmosphere was cozy, though somewhat disrupted by the sudden statement. Not that he was embarrassed or incommoded by the sudden request — quite the opposite — but he was far from being a social butterfly, and the idea of the three of them, and by that it meant his most important acquaintances at the moment, all gathering and socialising managed to be both enchanting and a little scary at the same time. 

“Amaryllis and Gael?” He blinked owlishly at her as she stepped back into the room carrying a tray. 

“Yes. You kept me company, that I know for a fact, but somehow I remember regularly hearing their voices too. And not to mention that they were there when I woke up. I’d like to thank them properly.” She put down the tray on the coffee table between them. “It’s a really strange experience, the whole coma ordeal. But I’d like to get to know them now I’m awake. They seem to be wonderful friends to you.”

Sven lowered his gaze to the tray, eyes glazing over the swirls of vapour lazily rolling up to the ceiling. 

“Yeah… that would be nice.” 

 

* * *

 

  
The very next Sunday, he indeed ended up finding himself sitting in her living room once again, except this time he had brought the two aforementioned redheads with him. The three of them were participating in a conversation he willingly let slip out of his reach in favour of silently processing what was happening, and sipping his cup of tea.   
He shouldn’t be surprised that they got along so well, all of them being individually interesting and different in a way that made interaction easy and entertaining.   
He was more used to being the silent kind, so he let it lull him into a warm sense of safety.   
  
Soon enough, the sun was setting and the boys decided it was time to get Amaryllis back to the hospital.   
  
After that, Gael went his own way to train, and Sven found himself walking thoughtfully in the afternoon’s muted ambient noise.  
  


* * *

  
  
One particular afternoon, he was going up to see Amaryllis alone for once since Gael had gone M.I.A. for a a solid two days, when he got intercepted by the blonde nurse  from the reception. 

She looked shy yet excited as she approached him, drumming against her leg with a notepad loosely held in her left hand.

He stopped in his tracks right before reaching the stairs, addressing a polite smile to her. Instead of feeling butterflies in his stomach, he felt hot under the collar, instantly reminded of what had happened in that bar on their Halloween outing. 

“Sven!” She greeted enthusiastically. He wasn’t too eager to respond, rather embarrassed, so he nodded instead. 

“Listen, the medical staff decided to throw a new year party so… Why don’t you come?” She asked confidently, the hint of a blush dusting her cheeks. 

Sven was a little taken aback, thinking she might stop even trying after what she’d witnessed the last time they had seen each other. 

“Uh, yeah, that would be great…”

“Awesome! You can bring along some friends if you’d like. I know you hang out often with the girl in the upstairs ward, and the mystery case boy…” She hesitated. “Do you… have a phone number? That way I can text you the date and location…” 

He nodded, and recited it for her. 

She thanked him and swiftly scurried away, Sven left to stare after her, bemused. 

Mystery case boy?   
Had she meant… Gael?  
  


* * *

 

  
The nightmares had gotten worse, soon to reach their peak. He knew that, yet he couldn’t find it in himself to open up to anyone, not even Mrs Bischel. His chewing on his thumb’s nail must’ve become obnoxious if the pillow that smacked him in the face was any indication. Amaryllis looked like a ruffled up bird, pouting angrily at him from the top of her bed. 

“I thought you came here to entertain me, not to make me feel like ripping your head off.” She huffed, arms crossed tight over her chest. 

Sven grimaced. 

“That’s right. I’m sorry.”

She eyed him suspiciously at his concession. 

“You look like you get even less sleep than you usually do. I’m used to you walking around like a zombie, but this is borderline mummy territory. You gonna be okay there?”

He let himself sink deeper into his armchair, nails digging at the armrests. He didn’t voice his concerns, true to his character. He couldn’t keep his mind from imagining how Gael would pester him for the truth at the sight of his expression, probably finding silly ways to make him feel at ease and ultimately open up and set all his feelings bare for him to see. 

He shivered slightly, suddenly sitting up under Amaryllis’ unreadable scrutiny.   
  


* * *

  
  
  
The day of the hospital staff’s new year party was approaching, and though he’d gotten a text confirmation from Gael, he hadn’t seen the redhead in a long while, and his bandmates' absence made itself known as well, leaving him to his own devices for longer than he was now accustomed too. He could have gone to Mrs Bischel, but he felt like she needed some peace after being discharged from the hospital to settle back into her home that had been all but deserted for several months.   
  
He was walking home from working at the café, hands deep in his pockets and a head full of grim thoughts when he spotted a familiar shock of red.

Despite himself, he immediately trotted towards Gael with a smile tugging at his lips. 

He stopped, however, confused at first — then his head went blank. 

After all, there was only so much overload his brain could handle in just a few seconds. 

Gael was pinned to the façade of a house by a tall blond man with shoulder-length hair, being kissed within an inch of his life.

But as if that in itself wasn’t enough, it had to be that one person.   
  
“Prof August?”  
  
There was a pause before Gael was being released, Sven’s gaze transfixed by his friend’s pink dusted cheeks and slick wet, kiss-bruised lips.

Something in his stomach felt wrong, and his gaze slowly went to August. 

“Ah, there’s my star student.” the latter announced brightly, as if absolutely nothing had just happened. 

There was a stretching silence during which Gael seemed to slide down the wall ever so slightly, the blush on his face intensifying, his wide-eyed gaze stuck to the floor. Sven’s brain still refused to work, something boiling in the blank corners of the deepest parts of his mind. 

The tall blond man was left staring between the two, brow raised. 

“Hum. You two know each other?” He asked casually, and Sven felt like ripping his insides even more than he ever did in the past, with genuine malice behind the thought this time. 

He tried to shake it off, but it felt like venomous claws had taken a solid grip of his heart. 

“Sven…” Gael’s voice was small and vulnerable, and it gave Sven goosebumps. He hated it. He opted to fully ignore his friend in favour of staring down his high-school professor. 

“What is going on?” He managed out, remaining composed despite the turmoil inside. 

August shrugged. “This young man found me wandering and gave me directions, and I thought it would be appropriate to thank him for helping this old man out.” 

Sven rubbed at the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine coming on. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

August’s eyes shone with something Sven instantly recognised from the past, and he found himself somehow calmed down, be it by little. 

Despite them rubbing each other the wrong way, August had been his best teacher, and he’d been August’s best student. Each of them a genius in their own way yet a little too similar to each other to get along well gave them a sort of competitive partnership one would acquire only with deep-set understanding. Sven hated being exposed, but with August he didn’t have a choice since he could read him so well, so he’d learnt to put up with him, lest they become enemies and utterly tear each other apart. 

His mind now somewhat cleared, he was reminded of Gael by another twinge of his gut. He shoved his revulsion aside, lips set in a thin line, addressing a curt nod in the redhead’s direction, before walking off, knowing full well August would follow him, but missing the blond’s amused grey stare following his back.   
  
  
Once they were far enough down the road to Sven’s place, August caught up to walk besides him instead of behind. 

“How’s Davos treating you so far? You getting used to not having a mass of people following you around?” he asked, lighthearted. 

“I’d rather not think about that,” he replied, suddenly reminded of the press pursuit always on his heels. 

August hummed and scratched at his growing scruff, ever so handsome in his gruffness. It pissed Sven right off. 

“Sooo that redhead twink…” August drawled, a predatory grin stretching his lips. 

“He’s a friend.” Sven replied dryly, shoving his keys in the keyhole, opening the door with a little more strength than required. 

“Is he available?” August asked slyly, paying no mind to Sven’s altered state. 

The latter attributed that boiling anger to August’s ever so flighty attitude, after all it really got on his nerves since forever. 

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if he swings that way,” Sven commented off handedly as he hung his coat. “he’s a friend I met at the hospital while another friend of mine was also hospitalised.”

“Oh believe me, after that kiss I definitely know which way he swings.” August commented casually with a wave of his hand.   
  
Sven paused in his routine, but recovered swiftly.   
  
There was a silence during which August silently gave himself a tour of his studio.  
  
“So, he’s a swimmer, huh.”  
  
With all the teasing lilt gone from his voice, the implications were heavy in August’s statement. 

Sven let himself drop on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and head between his hands. 

“As bad as ever?” August’s voice now held a soothing undertone, deep baritone helping anchor him. 

He nodded mutely, and received a sympathetic clap on his shoulder in response.   
  
  
Later that night, as August lay on pillows and blankets, snoring on the floor, Sven was left to stare up at his own ceiling, trying not to overthink things. 

Thoughts from the day mingled together into an indiscernable remembrance mush, where colours and sounds were dull and background to something else, simmering deep within oily waters. 

The familiar grip on his heart settled and he tensed, feeling like he could burst his lungs with air and yet still suffocate. 

He tried to reason with it, fight it with well rounded thoughts and arguments, hanging onto what little sanity he could, but the primal fear and anxiety prevailed, leaving him heaving and cheeks wet with tears, gripping at his heart. It felt like it was bursting apart between his burning lungs, the air he sucked in doing more damage than good. 

The depths took him in, dragged him under and wrecked all he’d ever known and loved, and there was nothing he could do about it.   
  


* * *

  
  
  
Gael twirled under the vigilant gaze of a dressed-up Amaryllis, who after looking deep in thought, gave a solid thumbs up. 

“You look good in my book,” she said, nodding to herself with armed crossed for emphasis. 

Gael nodded as well, giving her a small smile. 

He was nervous about the new-year party. He knew who had invited Sven, and did his best to ignore the tiny tug at his heart when he thought about it. 

And, there was also that August character that had kissed him, and the blank look of contempt he’d gotten from Sven after that still vividly haunted his memory. 

Of course, he’d told Amaryllis and she’d burst into laughter, raving about wanting to meet the man. 

Before he could dwell in his own thoughts any longer, his cellphone pinged and he knew they had to move out. 

They got ready to repeat the same maneuver they had on Halloween’s night.  
  
  
  
Down below, Sven was at the ready once again, a nonchalant August leaning against the wall close-by.  

“I knew you never were a good example, but this is pushing a little far,” the blond commented, amused by the developing scenery. 

Soon, Amaryllis’ legs showed at the window, and both men perked up. Sven widened his stance, feeling nervous all over again just like the first time. 

Soon she was hanging from the frame, clutching the sheet. Gael appeared then, entirely focused on his task, slowly lowering the sheet with extreme care. 

August whistled lowly, visibly impressed, and Sven kicked him in the shin. 

Soon, he was able to get a hold of the teen’s hips, and Gael was as swift with his leave as he’d been with his appearance.   
  
As soon as Amaryllis touched ground, her eyes landed on August, and she lit up. 

“You’re the guy!” She exclaimed as quietly as she could, immediately wobbling his way. 

The blond was surprised, taking a hold of her shoulders as she toppled over close, doubly surprised to hear her giggle. 

“I sure am a guy…?” he answered a little confused, leading her to follow Sven who had just started walking towards the exit. 

She tugged on the elder’s arm, grin as wide as it could be. 

“You made Gael very flustered.” She cooed, the blond man’s eyebrows raising in response. 

“You’re quite the rotten apple aren’t you?” he said, slightly amused. 

“Like you’re one to talk. I wanna know how Sven reacted.” 

August sighed and looked up to Sven who had fully caught up to Gael. Both young men walked with their head ducked and hands deep in their pocket, a more than reasonable distance between them. 

“He’s a dumbass.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” She answered gleefully, and he cast her an annoyed glare. 

“Pipe down, offshoot.” He sighed. “This type of person needs to lose it all to realise how much they had.”

They walked behind the two others in contemplative silence. 

“Sounds like someone is talking from experience,” the young girl mused, and August did not counter.   
  
  
At the fated party, held within the welcoming and cosy premises of a rented events venue, Gael and Sven were left to their own awkward devices. Amaryllis had taken a complete hold of August, pestering him senseless while he wandered about in hopes of snatching any kind of alcohol he could get his hands on; and the blonde nurse was too busy joking and talking with her peers to have noticed Sven’s arrival. 

The silence between them stretched painfully, feeling more and more like an insurmountable rift. Sven didn’t even look in Gael’s direction, the same unsettling feeling having made its home deep within his chest. He was scared that if he looked at the redhead’s face now, he would just get a replay of all the things he’s witnessed going through his features after his high school teacher had kissed him. 

He was rarely phased by anything, usually able to confront his own damn emotions before they simmered to an unhealthy broth of unease, but this time it took over his throat like a sour gulp of salt water.   
  
“I’m sorry.”   
  
  
He felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs all at once. Those simple words were enough to send his mind reeling, soaring out of hand at a million miles per hour, an all too familiar unbearable floaty feeling taking over his entire stomach with a shiver, a wave of cold sweat. He felt taken over by dread, like he had on so many occasions — always ending with him doubled over some grimy toilet, clawing at whatever was around to just try and anchor himself into reality, to no avail. He was starting to lose his grip, like it was being yanked out from under his feet, letting him fall right into a full blown panic attack. 

But why? 

Gael apologising was giving him a panic attack. 

He was staring wide-eyes at the redhead, the sounds around him too aggressive in his ears, rattling everything in his brain, not helping the slightest. He felt his knees ready to buckle under his own weight, palms clammy and fingertips numb.

Gael wasn’t looking at him, instead looking off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest lightly. The sad, guilty expression he had only made it worse.   
  
The ensuing silence finally prompted Gael to look up, eyes instantly blown wide by Sven’s indescribable expression. It shot right through his heart, and from one moment to the next, his expression had changed to one of sheer rebuttal. He practically lunged forward, taking hold of one of Sven’s trembling hands, quickly dragging him out of sight, right through where they had come from.  
  
His perception was altered, feeling like everything was both too fast and too slow to process, barely registering when he was guided to the floor, vaguely aware that his head wasn’t so busy with noise now.   
  
His breathing was out of control. He was getting too much in, not enough out — his lungs felt like they were going to burst, and that sent him on even more of a frenzy. He clawed at the floor with a desperate whine, eyes still wide open but unseeing, the world barely but a blur to him now.   
  
He felt like he was about to die.   
  
Slowly registering at the back of his frenzied mind, he felt warmth softly heating up his right palm, along with a regular motion. Up, down.   
  
His urge to throw up compressed his chest violently — _up, down._  
  
A harsh hiccup tore at his chest — _up, down._  
  
That gentle motion slowly aided him to empty his mind, with it instead of reeling out of control, focusing on syncing his breath with the steady rhythm.   
  
Steady, warm, strong.   
  
He slowly got his heaving breaths under control, exhaustion hitting him like a freight train. Breathing so heavily. 

Slowly, the world came back to him — or rather he came back to the world. 

“That’s it.” The low voice was gentle, soothing. He anchored himself with that voice. 

“Continue, focus on breathing.” So he did. He let his eyes fall closed, now in perfect sync with his guide.   
  
When the only thing overwhelming anymore was his exhaustion, he opened his eyes once again to take in his surroundings.   
  
He was propped against a wall. It was cold even through his clothes, causing him to shiver slightly. He looked up when something brushed against his cheek. 

Gael was looking at him with the gentlest eyes. 

He realised that the rhythm he’d been following, the warmth against his palm, was nothing other than Gael’s own breathing through the thin fabric of his shirt, punctuated with the steady beat of his heart. 

He blinked the blur from his eyes, causing more tears to flow down his cheeks. 

Gael silently wiped them away.   
  
He wanted to say something, if his lips hesitantly parting were any proof, but he wasn’t given the occasion. Upon seeing his eyes adjust and the regret, self-hatred, defeat on his face, Gael impulsively pulled him forward, caution be damned.   
  
Sven didn’t immediately react to the arms that wrapped around his shoulders, feather-light and deliciously warm. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” Gael murmured close to his ear, his tone so raw and honest with feeling that it made Sven shiver. 

His eyes softened, and he let his forehead drop against Gael’s collarbone, relishing in the proffered safety. 

Right. He felt so incredibly safe, it almost hurt.   
  
He didn’t mind the hand that ran through his hair. Not right now.   
  
“I’m—“  
  
“Don’t you dare apologise.” Gael warned, but it held no bite.   
  
Sven’s chest swelled with gratefulness. 

To his unconscious dismay, Gael pulled away, flashing a billion dollar smile right in his face. 

“Think you’re okay to head back?” the redhead asked softly. 

Sven wanted to say no. A minuscule, irrational, near-mute part of him wanted to bounce along with Gael, drag him all the way to his apartment, and ask him to just smother him in an unending bear hug for all eternity, muting life itself, leaving just that unwavering safety he’d just been torn apart from. 

Unfortunately, Sven wasn’t hearing any of it. Or rather wasn’t ready to. 

Instead, he gave a short nod, letting Gael wipe the remainder of his tears off his face with his sleeve, and he jolted when the smaller man even wiped his snot off his nose. 

“That’s gross,” he commented weakly, displeased by the hoarseness of his own voice. 

Gael only offered a small chuckle in response, looking entirely unaffected.  
  


 

It’d been a while since they had melded back into the crowd, separated almost the moment they had come back. Sven had been taken in by the nurse who had apparently spotted Amaryllis and put two and two together, rightfully assuming that they had come together. She managed to ease him into her circle of friends, who showed signs of being a little too jovial for it to have nothing to do with alcohol.   
  
Various times he wondered about Gael, and then he spotted him once at the farthest corner from where he sat. He was with August.   
He tried to ignore the acidic feeling in the pit of his stomach at the sight of his teacher’s wolfish grin, knowing that look all too well. Gael looked slightly bothered, holding onto his arm with one hand, the other at resting at his side. August was leaning forward and kind of crowding the redhead’s personal space.   
  
He wondered if Gael felt attraction for the man.   
  
No, that train of thought was no good. He shook his head, doing his best to get back into the conversation and picking up another drink. He’d lost count, but he wasn’t bothered to care anyway, he didn’t have to come in to work the next day.   
  
Time passed in a blur, and before he knew it he was slouched against Amaryllis at the same table, everyone around talking and laughing a little too loud. He was torn between falling asleep and merely existing there.   
  
His eyes drifted towards the nurse. She was the soul of the party it seemed, bringing everyone together seamlessly. A faint rosy blush covered her cheeks, and her eyes were hazed in a way he hadn’t seen before. It was strange to see her in such a context, when he’d be used to see her formal and proper in the hospital for such a long time.   
  
Besides him, Amaryllis frowned at his gawking. She wasn’t there for that kind of hetero shit. Thankfully, she’d managed to become the mascot of the party, her youthful face and innocent smile winning everyone over in a matter of minutes. 

“Hey, you guys wanna play a game? It’s one we made up with my friends, kind of a mix of truth or dare and spin the bottle.”   
  
Everyone around the table seemed to go through different emotions, some drunkenly cheering and others going into silent consideration in the prospect of such regression. 

Eventually however, her idea was welcomed with easy smiles and daring nods.   
  
From her seat, she shot a look towards August, who was sitting on a bench closer to the exit. Gael was asleep on his shoulder, the absolute nerd.   
  
The blond man rolled his eyes and shook Gael up, waking the poor redhead from his much needed sleep, and dragged him to the table. 

“Well. I’ll be leaving this here. I need to go. Too old for this kind of stuff.” He said, dropping Gael in a seat and leaving without saying goodbye. The teen heard him mumble something about fucking up his chances and whatnot, but she knew better.   
  
She quickly explained the rules for her game, garnering attention from everyone around. Their furrowed faces and creased brows were a clear indicator of just how drunk they were, because seriously, it wasn’t that complicated.   
She met Gael’s curious and sleep-laden eyes, and mentally apologised to him for whatever mess might come out of this. If she was lucky, she’d bring the two morons together. If she wasn’t, well… it was hard to take a guess at the consequences.   
  
 Sven barely stirred next to her, whenever the bottle spun he seemed to follow its movement out of the corner of his eye only because he had nothing else to look at, only perking up when the dares involved the blonde nurse.   
  
The whole thing proved to be exceptionally uneventful — well, not quite, it seemed as though the hospital staff was having great deals of fun, their tight bonds showing with their teasing and daring each other into a heartwarming picture of solid friendship — but that’s not what she was here for, and that’s not what August had stayed for. She could see the man hanging out close to the exit, smoking and casting curious glances their way every now and then.   
  
She figured she had to intervene, as she would’ve anyway. She just thought that maybe for once fate would be on her side. 

She gave the first spin with an expert flick of the wrist. 

It landed on a sleepy, tuned-out Gael. Good. 

Second spin. She trusted in her skills. 

Sven sat up slightly, blinking blearily. 

Now onto the improvised box with the jotted down dares and truths. She took her pick, lifting the paper to her eyes. Sucking in a breath through gritted teeth. 

“Kiss.” She announced.  
  
She hid her nervousness under well-practiced energy, clasping her hands together. The others at the table gave much of the same reactions they’d had so far, joking and teasing, some cheering. 

Gael looked uneasy, the situation slowly dawning on him, and Sven was squinting at nothing in particular. 

She pocketed the paper that she’d picked, grateful that no-one noticed she hadn’t put it back in the box. 

Gael looked just about ready to bolt, and Sven was still unresponsive. 

The blonde nurse giggled, directing a teasing look towards the latter. 

“What, are you gonna chicken out? It wouldn’t be the first time anyway.”  
  
That seemed to spark something within Sven, who suddenly sat straighter and focused, his eyes dead set on her blue ones. 

“It’s gonna be like that, then…” He muttered lowly, a slight curve to his lips. 

She shrugged, but held his gaze and let her smile soften. 

Sven got up, marching towards the unsuspecting redhead.   
  
In the confines of his drunken mind, he wondered if this could count as revenge for what the redhead had done to him that night at the bar. 

Gael looked up at him from his chair, eyes heavy with tiredness and something else he didn’t manage to identify.   
He got closer, way within the redhead’s personal space. That alone seemed to shake up the smaller man, who shoved his hands against Sven’s chest, eyes wide. 

“Don’t.” He whispered.   
  
It made Sven angry. Don’t? So Gael could do it to him with no problem, August could do it to Gael with no problem, but there was a problem when he was about to do it? 

He snarled, the expression on the redhead’s face flashing before his eyes like a vivid photograph right after August had kissed him. 

His anger boiled down and simmered into mere jealousy. He’d make Gael look the same.   
  
He closed the space between them, pressing his lips to Gael’s own. 

They were softer than anyone would expect from a guy — or at least, his preconceived thoughts. They were burning against his own. He felt Gael’s hands drop from his chest and held the pose for a few seconds before letting go and stepping back. 

He expected reddened freckled cheeks, half-lidded eyes and slightly parted lips.   
  
What he got was a look of pure, deep, searing _hurt_.   
  
It shot through his heart with a sharp pang he had never known.   
  
Before he could do anything about it, Gael was up and stepping away without a word.


End file.
